Blue As The Sea
by RaindropsOnMyTeaCup
Summary: *FrUK/UkFr Pirate!England x France* Arthur was the notorious Captain of The Bloody Rose, and being a pirate, he took what he pleased. But after taking a certain blue-eyed tavern owner, he finds that perhaps something had been taken from him too...(Rated M for language, violence and sexual themes).
1. The Blood Captain

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **Side Note: This is my first time writing Pirate!England, so I would appreciate your thoughts on the characterisation of him~**

 **Enjoy!~ x**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

The shimmering blue sea was calm as it gently lapped at the grand ship that disturbed the water, caressing the worn wood with love and familiarity as _The Bloody Rose_ was no stranger to the glimmering body of water. Captain Arthur Kirkland stood at the helm of his beloved ship, his calloused hands gripping the huge steering wheel and with each movement the sun caught the jewels of his rings and made them glint.

Arthur was the most feared pirate to sail English waters, and by the smirk that donned his handsome features, he knew it. He was known to many as the Blood Captain, having earned the name through his ruthless pillage and slaughter of whoever stood in the way of his bounty. The mere sight of Arthur and his crew on the horizon would be enough to send the unfortunate port of interest into a flurry of panic. Men would be recruited or killed if they resisted, women would be ravaged by greedy, groping hands, and children would be left orphans in the wreckage that their town had become.

Yes, the Englishman had made quite the reputation for himself, and everyone could easily identify his small but fast ship and his own attire of a rich, scarlet coat and a large hat donned with a plush white feather. This attire was what Arthur preferred to wear, as not only was it recognisable, it made him look rather dashing. He smirked to himself, his thoughts drifting ahead to the evening, when they would reach the small port in Calais, France, and spend the evening drinking and bedding some whore or tavern wench – whoever was unfortunate enough to catch the eye of the ruthless Captain.

By his calculations, they were only an hour or so away from French waters, and Arthur licked his lower lip slightly in anticipation as he looked forward to having a pretty little wench in his bed. Being at sea can make one extremely lonely, you see. What was a pirate to do when he finally stepped foot on dry land?

Arthur grinned, shouting insults at his fearsome crew to get them to move faster, guiding his ship hurriedly towards France as the wind caught in the grimy sails and carried the ship through the calm waters.

XxX

Night had fallen by the time _The Bloody Rose_ was securely docked in the small port, and Arthur wasted no time instructing a few crew members to guard his beloved vessel. The chosen men were disgruntled at not being able to have their pleasure for the night, but Arthur ignored their complaints, instead adjusting the large hat he wore. A mischievous sparkle glinted in his enticing emerald eyes, as he scanned the local area. Calais was quiet at this time of night, but Arthur's attention was captured by some loud, raucous laughter echoing down the hill. His gaze drifted upwards, spotting a small tavern with a few drunkards stumbling about outside – the cause of the noise. The tavern itself still seemed alive with people though, and Arthur grinned, beginning the short walk up the hill towards the small building.

XxX

Francis sighed in content to himself as he finally had a small break from serving drinks. The night had been busy, but due to the late hour people were slowly deciding it would be best to stagger home, still in high spirits. The blonde Frenchman smiled though as he loved the joyous atmosphere of his modest little tavern. He had moved to Calais with pretty much nothing, finding work in this same tavern when the owner was an old, gentle man. When he died a few years ago, he left the tavern to Francis, as he had taught the Frenchman everything about running the business. Francis had successfully taken over, and business was still booming every night for him. He was a pivotal figure in the small portside town and all the locals knew him. Francis was even considered a heartthrob to the innocent young ladies in the town, but Francis secretly did not hold much affection for any of them, but he partook in harmless flirting from time to time.

Still, Francis was very much a bachelor and spent too much time working in the tavern to really consider settling down with someone. But he was only twenty six years of age, and he had his whole life ahead of him to worry about that.

He smiled again, his cerulean eyes drifting over the people sitting drinking, laughing and conversing. Soon though, people began filtering out of the tavern and disappearing into the darkness outside, until it was only Francis and a serving girl left.

The Frenchman hummed in satisfaction, his full pockets and the empty tables tilting his decision towards closing for the night. Wiping down the bar, his attention was caught suddenly as the tavern door was kicked open roughly, the old wood slamming loudly against the carefully painted wall.

Francis jumped, his eyes widening as a bunch of huge, brutish men entered.

 _Pirates_ , Francis thought instantly, and his heart sped up slightly in fear. But pirates were still customers, and the Frenchman knew it was wiser to oblige them than kick them out.

The loud group flung themselves harshly down on the polished stools, and Francis winced at the thought of his furniture being treated so roughly. But he didn't have time to dwell on it as one of the more intimidating-looking pirates slammed his fist down on the table, demanding service.

Francis rushed over, his heart pounding as he was unsure whether he and his tavern would survive the night as he guessed these pirates planned on drinking themselves into oblivion before they budged from their table.

"Wench!" the pirate yelled, his words already slurred as pirates were almost never completely sober, and the crew had been drinking on board before coming to the tavern. In the pirate's state, he had mistaken Francis for a woman as the Frenchman had long, blonde hair and gentle features, as well as a slender, almost effeminate figure. But Francis dismissed this, knowing it would be wise not to contradict such a large and probably temperamental man.

Instead, he served the pirates anything and everything they demanded, from beer, to ales, to even the finest rum he had stocked. Francis was more than disheartened at their choice of rum, knowing he would not get much in the way of payment for all the alcohol, but he waited on them without complaint, enduring gropes and slaps to his ass from the now ridiculously drunk pirates.

"Oi – wench!" One of the pirates grabbed Francis by the waist as he was returning to the bar after delivering the latest round of drinks, and the Frenchman gasped in surprise as the pirate pulled him unceremoniously into his lap. Francis froze, so tense that he dared not struggle against the far-from-sober pirate. The pirate leered at him, and Francis could smell the strong alcohol on his breath. The other pirates were far too drunk to notice when the pirate held Francis in place with one strong arm, his free hand groping the Frenchman's inner thigh in a way that was far too intimate. Francis flinched, trying to pull back but he was held firmly in the pirate's lap.

Panic flooding his senses, Francis' instinct was screaming at him to escape. The pirate's face was inches from his own, and Francis could see the lust and clear intent in the man's eyes. His heart was pounding so loudly in his ears that he did not hear the tavern door open once more. When the pirate moved to kiss him, Francis wrenched himself free, shoving the pirate hard in the chest and making him topple over backwards, falling off the stool and onto the wooden floor. The other pirates laughed at the display, and Francis stepped back, ready to flee as the pirate struggled to get back up.

Francis' eyes widened as the pirate glared up at him from his position on the floor, and the Frenchman span around quickly to run, but instead he came face to face, and chest to chest, with eyes like emeralds, and an enticing smirk.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, having entered the tavern to see Francis' display of defiance, and he was more than amused by it. His crew were known for being rather forward, and he was no exception, but now the Frenchman had turned around Arthur could see what the attraction was. This man had eyes as blue as the sea, his long blonde hair framing his handsome features perfectly. He had a hint of stubble on his chin and a strong jawline, and Arthur couldn't help allowing his gaze to drift over the Frenchman's body, admiring him.

Francis blushed faintly at the unexpected proximity in which he encountered the green-eyed pirate, but his blush darkened as he felt the heat of his emerald gaze travelling over his body rather too invasively. The Frenchman, with a growing sense of danger and discomfort, tried to push past the pirate, but with ease Arthur caught him by the wrist; his grip strong and unyielding.

The English Captain smirked as Francis was forced to halt, and he hummed mockingly. "I should like a glass of your strongest rum, love."

His voice was like silk, a stark contrast to his intimidating appearance, but it just served to make the man more untrustworthy in Francis' eyes.

The Frenchman's cerulean gaze flitted towards the crew. "They have the bottle…" he tried to sound confident, but the tremor in his own voice betrayed him.

Arthur's smirk remained, his emerald eyes flashing at the tremor in Francis' response. "A whiskey, then. And a room, if you please."

When Francis nodded, Arthur let go of his wrist, and the Frenchman scurried back to the bar, searching for the prized whiskey he had hidden when the pirates entered. Arthur watched him, whetting his lips slightly with his tongue as he mused about whether the tavern owner was untouched or not.

Francis poured a glass of whiskey with trembling hands, the bottle clinking slightly against the rim of the glass as he did. He could still feel the gaze of the pirate on him, and it triggered unease to course through him, as if the pirate were holding a sword to his throat. When he looked up again, Arthur was standing directly in front of him, and Francis almost dropped the bottle in shock, having not heard the man move due to the raucous racket of his crew.

Arthur's undying smirk mocked Francis as he took the drink, downing it quickly before setting it in front of Francis. "Another."

The Frenchman filled the glass again, and Arthur took both the glass and the bottle out of Francis' hands smugly.

"Now then, a room?" the Captain prompted, downing the second glass and humming as he felt the fire of the alcohol burn his throat. It was a sensation he had grown to love.

Francis hesitated, before turning his back to the pirate to select a room key. Again, Arthur allowed his gaze to drift over the Frenchman, admiring his slim figure and imagining what it would be like to spend the night with him.

All too soon, Francis obscured Arthur's view of his behind by turning back to him, handing him a room key.

"I'll show you to the room, monsieur." Francis' accent was thick as he had very little use for English, but Arthur only seemed to find it more enticing.

With a gesture of one ring-adorned hand, Arthur encouraged Francis to lead the way, following behind him up the stairs. The staircase was dark and narrow, and in the close confines Arthur could smell the cheap but flowery perfume the Frenchman wore. He could tell the tavern owner was not wealthy by any means, but he still took pride in how he presented himself.

Arthur smirked as he allowed himself to wonder how Francis would look moaning and begging underneath him…

* * *

 **A/N: So this was the start of my first ever Pirate story~**

 **Please review and let me know what you thought of the first chapter!**

 **Love you all x**


	2. A Pirate's Scars (M)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **Side Note: This chapter contains smut - if you don't like it, don't read it~**

 **Otherwise, enjoy!~ x**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

"Here." Francis announced, opening the door to a small, equally dark room. The Frenchman went inside, fishing a match out of his pocket and striking it until a flame roared to life, devouring the head of the match, and Francis used it to light the candles around the room. Soon, the room was lit in a cosy glow, and Arthur noted how the candlelight created shadows against Francis' soft features, making them harsher but still handsome.

Francis froze as he heard the door lock, and he turned back to the pirate who was conveniently leaning against the bolted door. Arthur still smirked, one jewelled hand against the doorframe to support himself.

"Tell me, love…" the pirate purred, the sound sending an involuntary shiver down Francis' spine. "What is your name?"

The tavern owner hesitated, his blue eyes flickering uncertainly around the room, but seeing no other feasible exit, he conceded. "Francis…" he replied softly, being alone in a room with a pirate making him fear for his life.

Arthur sensed his fear, and he grinned. "Francis." He repeated, tilting his head slightly and the large hat on his head tilted too. "And do you know who I am, Francis?"

The Frenchman shook his head, but he noticed the elaborately embroidered scarlet coat the man wore, and the large amount of gold and jewellery that he sported. Old tales of pirates flooded his mind, and Francis' blue eyes widened as he put a name to the man in front of him.

"The…Blood Captain…" he whispered, remembering the countless tales of pillage and plunder that surrounded this man. His legacy was of pain and blood and murder, and Francis trembled slightly to be confronted by such a notorious Captain.

Arthur grinned again, taking off his hat and giving an extravagant, swooping bow. "At your service, love." He chuckled in amusement as he straightened back up, placing his hat on the bedpost at the foot of the bed. "But you may call me Arthur~"

Francis flinched at the action, watching nervously as Arthur took off his coat, revealing a hoard of weapons. One by one, the Captain stripped himself off his pistols, swords and knives, placing them all on the small side table in the room. Francis glanced at the stash of weapons, wondering if he could make a grab for one and use it to get away.

Arthur stood before him, disarmed completely and now clad in a simple white undershirt and black trousers that were tucked into shiny leather boots. He looked harmless, but Francis knew that a man of his reputation wouldn't need weapons to intimidate.

The Frenchman watched warily as Arthur poured some more whiskey into the glass they had brought up with them, and he offered it to him. "Drink?"

Francis shook his head, his golden hair catching the light of the candles and shimmering like gold. Arthur just gave a shrug, setting the glass on the side table and taking a swig straight from the bottle.

"W-What do you want with me?" Francis stammered out after a moment, the silence in the room stretching and enhancing his fear.

The Captain put the bottle back on the side, swallowing the liquid before smirking. "I'm very glad you asked that, Francis." He took a step closer, and Francis instinctively flinched back. "You see, I've been at sea for a very, very long time." His tone was a purr that Francis felt simultaneously drawn in and threatened by.

Arthur reached a calloused hand out, briefly stroking Francis' cheek before the Frenchman leapt back as if the pirate had struck him. His cerulean eyes were wide with fear as Francis tried to desperately escape the menacing pirate.

Arthur was not deterred by Francis' rejection, and instead it seemed to spur him on. He moved closer to Francis, and the Frenchman saw an opportunity. As Arthur moved towards him, Francis pushed past, reaching for one of the pirate's knives that he had seemingly left so carelessly on the side table. In his haste, Francis didn't notice Arthur's smirk.

Francis grasped the knife, whirling back around only to have his wrist caught by Arthur effortlessly, and the Captain forced Francis against the locked door, slamming his hand against the door until the knife slipped from his fingers. The tavern owner gasped, letting out a soft whimper of pain as Arthur pinned him in place, leaning in and brushing his lips over the exposed skin of Francis' neck.

Widening his eyes again, Francis tried to struggle, but the Captain's grip was strong, and his chest was pressed against the Frenchman's. Francis' breath hitched as Arthur smirked against his skin, unable to resist running his tongue over the nape of Francis' neck just to see him squirm. Francis let out a rather unceremonious squeak, lifting his knee up to connect with Arthur's crotch in retaliation.

The Captain let out a grunt of surprise and pain, but he barely relented for a moment before tightening his hold on Francis, slipping one leg between the Frenchman's to keep him still.

"Now love, it is very unwise to make me angry…" Arthur purred into Francis' ear, nipping his earlobe teasingly. Francis squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push Arthur away but he froze when Arthur found a sweet spot on his neck, and he let out a soft mewling sound.

The pirate grinned, biting down on the sensitive skin and making Francis yell out in a mix of pain and pleasure. The Frenchman blushed darkly, hating himself for liking the pirate's actions, but he couldn't help the moans that slipped past his lips as Arthur sucked and nipped at the unblemished skin of his neck, trailing kisses along his jaw.

The Captain smirked in triumph as Francis slowly stopped fighting him, and he let go of his wrist in favour of slipping a hand under his shirt. The tavern owner gasped at rough touch of the pirate, as it felt like electricity surged through him with every caress of his skin. Francis slowly seemed to realise that Arthur was no longer restraining him, but before he could act, Arthur captured his lips in a rough kiss. Francis widened his eyes, pressing his hands against Arthur's chest to try and shove him back, but as Arthur flicked his tongue over Francis' lower lip, the Frenchman found himself involuntarily kissing back, parting his lips for him and sliding his arms around the pirate's neck instead. His eyelids fluttered closed as Arthur's tongue invaded his mouth, moaning softly into the kiss as the Captain stroked their tongues together.

Francis forgot how dangerous this man was, and even the fact that he _was_ a man as Arthur deepened the kiss, enjoying Francis' moans of submission. The pirate tasted like whiskey, rum and something else that was entirely Arthur, and Francis found it all too addicting.

Pulling him closer, Francis let Arthur rip the shirt he was wearing clean off the Frenchman's torso, not minding the groping hands wandering over his exposed chest. Arthur broke the kiss to breathe, panting softly and grinning as he saw the pink dusting Francis' cheeks.

 _He looked delicious._

Francis blushed darkly, feeling his cheeks heat up under the intensity of Arthur's predatory gaze. His eyes darted once again, but this time to the abandoned glass of whiskey one the side table, feeling like he would need the courage it would give him. Arthur grinned, handing him the whiskey and he was barely able to stop himself from pouncing on the other man as he watched Francis down the whiskey with such haste that some trickled from the corner of his mouth, down his chin.

Arthur licked his lips in anticipation, waiting until Francis emptied the glass before snatching it from his grasp, replacing the cool rim of the glass against his lips with his own, hungry ones. The Frenchman swallowed the liquid, feeling the burn before Arthur's lips claimed his once again, but this time Francis kissed back more fervently, beginning to care less and less about the pirate's reputation, and more about his touch and attention.

Arthur's hands roamed once again over Francis' unblemished chest, before withdrawing, breaking the kiss to remove his shirt. He wore a simple gold necklace around his neck that he took off as well, placing it gently on the side before turning back to him. Francis leaned towards him slightly, enraptured by him and not wanting him to stop, but when he saw Arthur was removing his shirt, he didn't complain. The Englishman tossed his shirt across the room where it fell somewhere and was forgotten about, and Francis widened his eyes at what he saw. The pirate's chest was covered in numerous scars from his encounters with rivals and enemies, and while some were faded, some were pink and new. Francis' lips parted slightly as it seemed to make the man before him more charming and desirable, and without really thinking he reached out, running his slender fingers over some of the scars. Arthur stilled, watching him with slight amusement as he let him do as he pleased.

"Do they hurt?" Francis asked softly, not aware of Arthur's eyes on him.

"Not anymore." The Captain responded with an uncharacteristic softness in his own voice, finding that Francis had an unexpected calming effect on him. He blinked as he realised, taking Francis' hand and instead pulling him onto the bed. Francis let out a squeak of surprise as he was pressed onto the old mattress, but it was muffled as Arthur kissed him again, placing himself between Francis' legs and pressing their chests together. This time Francis melted into the kiss, running his hands over the scars on Arthur's chest again before reaching up and placing his hands on Arthur's strong shoulders. The pirate broke the kiss, moving down and undoing Francis' breeches in one swift motion, something he seemed rather practiced at. He smirked as he saw the arousal that Francis' undergarments poorly concealed, before removing the rest of their clothes impatiently, kicking off his boots and not acknowledging the _clap_ they made clattering to the wooden floor. Instead, he turned his attention to Francis' entrance, sucking on his fingers briefly before slipping one inside to loosen him up.

Francis let out a yelp, tensing as he had never been with another man before, and the feeling of having something inside him was strange and unpleasant. He squirmed, but Arthur kissed over his shoulder gently to soothe him.

"Relax, love. It won't hurt…" he purred, a note of real care slipping into his tone, and Francis did his best to calm down.

He closed his eyes, letting out a soft mewl of pain when Arthur entered a second finger, but as Arthur persisted, Francis gradually began to feel more pleasure through the pain.

"A-Arthur…" he breathed, gripping Arthur's shoulders slightly as he slowly adjusted.

The sound of Francis' lacing his name with a heavy French accent made Arthur's arousal painful, and he removed his fingers, lining himself up.

Francis whined at the loss of the fingers, but as he saw Arthur's erection, he widened his eyes, not liking the thought of something so big entering him. But Arthur's soft murmurs comforted him, and Francis laid back, praying that it wouldn't hurt.

Arthur pushed in as gently as he could, but Francis tensed and let out a noise of pain, tears welling in the corners of his beautiful blue eyes. Arthur stilled once fully inside him, and he leaned over, gently kissing away the tears.

"It will feel better once I start moving, alright?" Usually the Captain didn't care about the well-being of his bed-mate, but something about Francis evoked a more caring response in the stern pirate.

Francis slowly nodded, gripping Arthur's shoulders more tightly as he braced himself for more pain, not quite believing Arthur's words. Slowly, the pirate began to move, and Francis groaned in pain.

But with each slow thrust, Francis began to feel more pleasure to outweigh the pain, and beautiful moans began to slip past his lips, encouraging Arthur to go faster. The Englishman picked up the pace, holding Francis' hips as he began thrusting harder as well.

Soon the room filled with slapping sounds between breathy moans and groans, and the Frenchman slid his arms around Arthur's neck, pulling him closer. Arthur grinned, groaning against Francis' shoulder as he slammed into him harder and harder, smirking in triumph as Francis suddenly let out a euphoric scream.

" _Mon dieu_!" Francis yelled, tangling a hand in Arthur's hair and tugging on it harshly, which only spurred Arthur on more. The Captain grinned, leaning down and biting the sweet spot on Francis' neck again as he pounded into the Frenchman, loving every delicious moan he made Francis utter.

Francis arched his back into Arthur, and the Englishman scooped one arm under the Frenchman, pulling him up more with each thrust to get a different angle. The Frenchman gasped for breath between his moans and screams, completely lost in the pleasure, and he looked so beautiful.

Arthur felt that he was close, and he could tell Francis was as well.

"A-Arthur, I – " Francis tried to warn him, before he released over their chests, screaming the pirate's name. It was the most gorgeous sound Arthur had ever heard.

The scream and the feeling of Francis tensing around him again brought him over the edge, and Arthur moaned Francis' name as he released inside the Frenchman, riding out his orgasm slowly as he panted against Francis' neck.

The Frenchman fell back against the soiled mattress, panting heavily as he looked up at Arthur with half-lidded blue eyes. The Captain grinned, letting out a breathless chuckle as he slowly pulled out of Francis, collapsing next to him. He sighed softly as Francis rolled over, resting his head against Arthur's chest and cuddling up to him, but he did not object. Instead, he pulled the bed covers over the both of them, holding Francis close as if he were the only thing in the world that mattered to the pirate.

The two men fell asleep, Francis' hand resting on Arthur's arm gently as the Englishman held him in a lover's embrace.

* * *

 **A/N: So, chapter 2! I know this chapter was pretty much just smut, but it clearly meant a lot more to both Francis and Arthur, they just don't know it yet~**

 **Please review and let me know what you thought about this chapter! x**


	3. Longing

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

Francis slowly stirred as he sensed the sunlight on his face. Groaning, he cracked one eye open, seeing the curtains in the room were drawn back, and he wondered vaguely if they had been open all night. Slowly, the events of last night came back to him, and Francis smiled to himself as he cuddled into the bed more, before realising that he was alone in the bed.

The Frenchman winced as he slowly sat up, groaning in pain at the abuse his lower half had taken the night before his cerulean gaze drifted around the room. The large hat that had been on the bedpost was gone. The weapons that had been abandoned on the side table were gone. Arthur was gone.

Francis felt his heart plummet as some part of him had always known this would be the result of spending a night with such a notorious pirate, but he hadn't wanted to think about it. Now he wished that he had. Letting out a heavy sigh, Francis slowly dragged himself out of the bed, the pain he felt now mocking him.

Pirates took what they want and left. That was what they did.

 _That was what Arthur had done._

The tavern owner noticed two things that still remained on the side table. He furrowed his brows as he picked up the delicate gold necklace that Arthur had been wearing the night before, conflicted by it.

 _He probably just left it behind accidentally._

The Frenchman scowled at the necklace, gripping it in his fist and wanting to throw it across the room. But instead he loosened his grip, before fastening the necklace around his own neck, though he didn't want to admit why.

The second item was a purse of gold coins – more than Francis' meagre tavern would make in a year – but it seemed to him like the sort of payment given to a whore after a night of sex.

Francis clenched his fists, angered by the gift as he only viewed it as an insult.

 _How dare he?!_

Francis fell back against the bed, bursting into tears. He hated that he had already fallen for such a horrible man, but that's what pirates did.

They took what they wanted, and Francis' heart was no exception to that.

XxX

Arthur scanned over the charts on his desk, but his mind was not focused on them. Instead his thoughts were of the gentle touch of a Frenchman, and the delicious moans that Arthur himself had caused him to let out. The Captain frowned, forcing himself to be more attentive to the charts, but his heart was heavy from leaving Calais.

In fact, ever since he had left the warmth of the bed he had shared with Francis, his heart had ached. So much so that Arthur had left his mother's necklace for the Frenchman to keep, and a purse of coinage that would surely help Francis keep his tavern from falling to pieces.

He regretted not saying goodbye to him, but then again he had never even thought twice about leaving his bed-mate before they woke up. But Francis was different, because he wasn't just a bed-mate.

 _Yes, he was. That's all he was._

Still, Arthur's denial was weak in comparison to the insistence of his treacherous heart. The Captain took a swig from the bottle of rum that sat on his desk, hoping the alcohol would numb his mind to how much he wanted to be with Francis again.

After a few more minutes of trying in vain to focus his mind on anything other than beautiful blue eyes and soft, unblemished skin, Arthur gave up, deciding some sea air would soon clear the frog from his mind.

His leather boots clacked on the creaking wooden steps as the pirate made his way up onto the deck of _The Bloody Rose_ , donned in his scarlet coat and large hat as he always was. His notorious crew were idly tending to the ship, as the waters were calm and they did not have to wrestle with a storm to stay on course. The evening sky was clear, and Arthur's footsteps stilled as he reached the bow of the ship, his gaze studying the smooth, shimmering waters that awaited them on their course to Spain.

He gave a silent sigh, propping his elbows on the side of the ship and gazing out at the sea. It was no use; the Englishman's mind flooded with thoughts of Francis again, and he wondered what the Frenchman might be doing at this very moment. He imagined the tavern owner serving drinks and sharing laughter with some regulars he may have.

Arthur frowned as he realised Francis probably hadn't given him a second thought since the pirate had left, and that thought tugged on his heart the most. The Captain wanted Francis to be pining over him, as doubtless the many other men and women he had visited for the night did. But he had never thought he would be the one pining.

"Captain!" Came an intrusive shout from the crow's nest, tearing Arthur from his ponderings over his beloved Frenchman.

"What?" he growled, more than perturbed as he secretly loved having Francis devour his mind and very soul.

"On the horizon, sir!"

Arthur followed the frantic pointing of the pirate perched higher than him, fishing in his coat for the spyglass. He almost feared he had misplaced his treasured item, before his rough hands clasped the polished wood and a small smirk graced his lips. He raised his spyglass to the level of his eye, peering through it in the direction the pirate wildly gestured towards.

As promised, there was something on the horizon. A large ship, although it looked incredibly small at a distance, but Arthur knew better. He knew the shape of the vessel and the colour of its sails; _The Esmerelda._

"Well, well…" he smirked, lowering the spyglass. "It seems we have to endure the company of Captain Carriedo on this fine morning."

He raised his voice, alerting the crew to his incoming orders. "Ready the cannons!"

The command carried, rippling throughout the crew who repeated the instruction until every crew member understood. They sprang into action, preparing to engage the Spanish crew of the rival ship.

Arthur smirked, observing as the Spanish ship quickly came within range of _The Bloody Rose's_ fierce cannons. Arthur's vessel was smaller but faster than the Spanish ship, and his crew were well-experienced in manoeuvring the modest English ship in combat. A smaller, rapidly moving target was harder to fight or land blows upon, giving _The Bloody Rose_ a significant advantage. However, _The Esmerelda_ was large and powerful, and the fire of her cannons could easily rupture _The Bloody Rose_ if caught in the onslaught.

 _The Esmerelda_ was much closer to them now, so close that Arthur could spot Captain Carriedo shouting his own orders in his foreign tongue. The ships were soon upon each other, cannons firing and then swords clashing as the pirates swung over on ropes to board the enemy ships. Arthur grinned, drawing his own sword and gripping a thick rope, swinging over to _The Esmerelda_ with the grace and elegance of a respectable Captain.

His boots clapped against the Spanish deck as he landed smoothly, his undying smirk as crooked as his hat.

"Captain Kirkland~" the man who stood before him studied him with olive-green eyes, and a smirk that equalled Arthur's own.

"Captain Carriedo." Arthur returned cordially, amused at how civil they could be to each other just before they would try to maim and kill the other Captain.

"I must say, I was surprised to see you in Spanish waters, _amigo_." Captain Carriedo grinned, on no level being sincere when addressing Arthur as his friend.

"We were simply passing through…" The English Captain's tone was almost mocking, as if chastising the Spaniard. "It is impolite to stick your nose into other people's business, Antonio."

"And where were you coming from to be 'passing through'?" Antonio's grin was cunning. "And what havoc were you reaping in French waters?"

Arthur's sly grin did not falter. "None that would concern you." Francis flashed in his mind again, and his expression unknowingly softened the slightest bit. It wasn't much, but Antonio noticed it. It was the look of someone in love. The Spanish Captain recognised the look all too well.

However, the Spaniard didn't have time to dwell on the matter properly as members of his crew and Arthur's clashed swords, and soon the Captains followed suit, engaging in their own battle.

Both the Englishman and the Spaniard were skilled in swordsmanship, and each met the other's moves expertly. Antonio engaged Arthur in a tango of elaborate footwork and swift parries, and Arthur proved to be a more than worthy adversary. The two pirates were equalled in their skills and reputation, which was the main reason why they could not stand each other. Both strived to be the most feared Captain to sail the seven seas, but it was impossible while both of them still breathed the salty air.

Arthur grit his teeth as he blocked a potentially lethal blow, and Antonio grinned as he loved the adrenaline that coursed through them. The Spanish Captain managed to slice Arthur's arm slightly, but it was only a shallow cut, and in return the English Captain scratched Antonio's cheek so quickly that the Spaniard did not register any pain, unaware of his bleeding cheek.

The two would often fight for hours, until they both tired or one of them suffered an injury bad enough to prevent him from continuing. By which point their first mate would intervene to get their Captain to safety before he was finished off.

Arthur smirked as he struck Antonio's side, and the Spanish Captain let out a gasp of shock and pain as he had not realised he had left his side undefended. The Blood Captain grinned darkly as he retracted his sword ready to swing once more, but his blade connected with a smaller but fierce one.

Arthur frowned, turning his attention to what seemed to be a mere cabin boy of Antonio's, with caramel hair and chocolate eyes, and a single unruly curl that bounced atop his head as he parried with the notorious English Captain.

Antonio held his side, staggering slightly as he was losing blood, but seeing Arthur fighting this boy made him grip his sword with a newfound strength, and he lunged at the English Captain, knocking him away from the boy with enough force to unsteady his footing.

As Arthur was getting back to his feet, Antonio turned to the boy, his voice a hiss. "What did I tell you, Lovi? Leave the Captain to me!"

The boy, Lovino, only glared. "If I hadn't saved your ass you would have been fish food!" he snapped, a fire in his eyes but concern in his tone.

Arthur hesitated, noticing the way Antonio's demeanour had changed as soon as he turned to the boy. He was leaning over him slightly, not intimidating him but protecting him, like an older brother…or a lover, perhaps.

Either way, Arthur knew he had caused Antonio enough injury for one day. If he was lucky, gangrene would finish the Spaniard off.

Stepping back aboard his own ship, Arthur observed the Spanish Captain once more, seeing him collapse to his knees and watching as Lovino struggled to heave him back to his feet, slowly and carefully guiding him to Antonio's cabin.

The English Captain smirked to himself at the victory, but his heart panged as he suddenly wished more than anything for Francis to be by his side. The pirate frowned, physically shaking his head of the thought as he stalked back to his own cabin, leaving the crew to dispose of the bodies that had been a result of the two rivals meeting, and soon _The Bloody Rose_ and _The Esmerelda_ parted ways again, no doubt to encounter in different waters on a different day.

* * *

 **A/N: And that's chapter 3!**

 **What did you think of Francis' reaction to waking up alone?**

 **And how do you think Arthur will cope not having Francis with him?**

 **Please review and let me know~**

 **Love you all x**


	4. Return To Calais (M)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **Warning: This chapter contains smut. You have been warned~**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

 _Arthur smiled as he gazed at the Frenchman who stood by the tiny porthole in the Captain's cabin, admiring how he looked in nothing but an innocent, white shirt. Francis long, golden hair fell about his shoulders in a way that was slightly mussed, as Arthur had tangled and tousled his locks earlier in their passion. The gorgeous man had a dark hickey left just under his jaw, where Arthur knew it would be impossible to conceal, and Arthur grinned as he spotted it._

 _"What are you smiling at?" Francis' melodic voice floated across the room, and he arched his perfectly-groomed eyebrow in slight confusion and amusement._

 _"Nothing, love." Arthur answered smoothly, crossing the room to where his lover stood and cupping his chin gently with his thumb and forefinger. "I was just wondering whether you were up for another round~" he purred suggestively, loving the faint blush but smirk that graced Francis' lips._

 _Without replying, the Frenchman captured Arthur's lips, sliding his arms around his neck as Arthur pulled him close by the waist. Francis' hands travelled confidently over Arthur's body as if he had explored it several times, and Arthur let out a groan as Francis slipped his slender hand into Arthur's breeches._

 _Francis chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down the pirate's spine and he let out a soft growl in response, hissing as Francis' cold fingers found his already hard erection. Teasing him, Francis pulled away completely, instead going over to the large bed and laying down. The shirt rode up slightly, allowing Arthur to gaze hungrily at Francis' milky, slightly bruised thighs, but what he really wanted to pay attention to was still concealed by the pesky shirt._

 _Arthur grinned, his emerald eyes flashing like a dangerous predator as he pounced on the other man, abusing every inch of unblemished skin with harsh sucks and nips. Francis mewled in pain and pleasure, arching into him and panting softly._

 _"A-Arthur~" he moaned out, and it aroused Arthur even more to hear his own name tumbling from the Frenchman's bruised, swollen lips. The Captain entered Francis easily, loving the moans he received as he moved at a fast, rough pace. Francis clawed at Arthur's bare back, his beautiful blue eyes glazed with lust and pleasure as Arthur claimed his lips possessively. The Englishman closed his eyes, focusing on the heat and contact of Francis' body. His moans. His perfume. His walls clenching tight around Arthur –_

Arthur woke up with a jolt, gasping. His stunned emerald eyes darted around his cabin, searching for Francis. But the Frenchman was not there.

It had been several months since Arthur's visit to Calais, and recently he had been having dreams about the tavern owner. At first they were innocent and calm, and Arthur awoke feeling saddened that such a tender moment had only been a dream.

But recently every dream had left him painfully aroused and craving Francis' touch, and now Arthur groaned as he saw the very obvious tent he was creating under the bedsheets. The Captain laid his head back on the pillows, kicking the bedsheets off and closing his eyes.

He imagined Francis leaning over him as he pleasured himself, picturing those beautiful blue eyes staring down at him as the Frenchman rode him. Arthur imagined watching Francis bounce on his member, wondering how beautiful his moans would sound and how gorgeous his sweat-glistened body would look.

Arthur let out a cry as he released into his own hand, and his immersion in his fantasies was ruined at once. With a heavy sigh, Arthur stood, washing his hands in the bowl of water that had cooled since being poured into the basin of his cabin. He slowly dressed himself, his heart feeling so heavy that it almost seemed difficult for Arthur to even move properly.

He couldn't fight it anymore. He wanted the Frenchman; needed him.

He had to go back to Calais.

XxX

It was dark by the time _The Bloody Rose_ reached the little Calais port, and Arthur's heart started to pound as the tiny tavern could be seen perched halfway up the hill. The Captain retreated back to his cabin for a moment, staring at himself in the small mirror he possessed – something he rarely used, but now it seemed incredibly important that he look his best for Francis.

Arthur had never cared much about his appearance before, his intention being to intimidate rather than to allure. But now his emerald eyes searched his reflection for any flaws, straightening his hat and adjusting the ruffles of his sleeves. He dabbed a small amount of perfume on his wrists and behind his ears, before smirking confidently at his reflection.

Then, deeming himself dashing enough for the tavern owner, Arthur waited for the ship to dock properly, shouting instructions to his crew as he all but ran off the ship, making his way hastily towards the tavern.

XxX

Francis sighed as he poured another drink, passing it to one of the regulars. The man was drunk off his ass and kept flirting with Francis, mistaking him for a woman, and usually the Frenchman would have found it amusing, but now he longed for some genuine flirtation from someone who actually had an interest in him.

Ever since Arthur had left, almost a year ago, Francis had felt lonely and in need of someone to hold him and make love to him like that damned pirate had. As a result, he had slept with a good deal of men and women alike, but none of them made him feel what the Captain had been able to.

It frustrated Francis greatly, especially since he guessed he would never see Arthur again, and his heart pined for those emerald eyes, that addictive smirk, that smooth-as-silk voice.

With another heavy sigh, the Frenchman turned his back to the regular, starting to close the bar for the night. He wouldn't have any more customers now, he assumed, and so he could close up and usher the remaining drunkards out.

Francis inwardly groaned as he heard the tavern door open, though, not wanting to serve more people tonight.

"We are closing for the night, _monsieur_ …" Francis dismissed, wiping down the shelves that stored the bottles of cheap alcohol.

"All I want is a drink, love." Came an all-too-familiar voice, and Francis widened his eyes, his heart speeding up and he whirled around. Sure enough, Arthur stood there, in his scarlet coat and large hat, with that insufferable smirk dancing about his lips. "And a room~" the pirate added once he had Francis' attention.

The Frenchman's heart was glad that Arthur was here, but despite this he gave the Captain a fierce glare, before pouring him a whiskey. Arthur smirked as he saw that Francis remembered what he liked, but he furrowed his brows slightly as he saw the Frenchman's glare, confused as to why the tavern owner did not seem happy to see him.

Wordlessly, Francis shoved the drink across the bar towards the pirate, before turning his back to him once more, grabbing a key off the hook viciously.

Arthur watched him, noting that his body language was tense and defensive, almost as if he was trying to protect himself from the Captain. Francis came around the bar, glancing at Arthur before heading up the stairs just as he had a year ago, on their first meeting. Arthur followed, wanting to hold Francis in his arms and kiss him and tell him how much he had missed him, but the Frenchman hardly met his gaze.

The tavern owner opened the door to the room, not making the same mistake of entering the room so that Arthur could trap him in. He pressed the key into Arthur's hand, turning to leave again, but the Captain frowned, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the room. Francis let out a gasp, wincing as the pirate's grip was strong, but as Arthur locked the door behind them, Francis wrenched his arm free.

"Let me out." The Frenchman demanded in a low voice, his beautiful blue eyes flashing with anger, and Arthur knew he shouldn't love Francis' anger, but the way he glared at the Captain only made him want the Frenchman more.

"You don't really want me to though, do you, love?" Arthur purred, his smirk frustrating Francis more.

" _Oui,_ I do! I have nothing to say to you…" Francis tried to snatch the key back to unlock the door, but Arthur easily evaded his attempt.

"Why are you angry with me?" the Englishman asked simply, smiling slightly as he caught a glimpse of his gold necklace that Francis now wore around his delicate neck.

The Frenchman's eyes were fiery and his features were harsh as he glared at the pirate. "You should know why!"

When Arthur only raised an eyebrow in response, Francis frowned. "I do not appreciate being treated like a whore."

His words confused the Captain, as he did not recall once treating Francis like a whore. "Francis, I assure you – "

But Francis glared, pointing a finger at him in accusation. "You are a bastard!" he seethed, but again Arthur only felt more attracted to the fuming Frenchman, wanting so badly to have his way with him.

"You left money by the bed to pay me for my 'services', _oui_?"

Arthur blinked, before a smile grew on his lips, and he didn't hide it well. "No, that was to pay for the large bill I am sure my crew racked up."

Francis faltered at this, before narrowing his eyes. "And what about leaving without so much as a farewell?"

This made Arthur pause, and he gazed into Francis' beautiful eyes, able to detect the hurt there as Francis was not the best at concealing his true feelings.

"That was regrettable…I ask for your forgiveness, love." The Captain's silky voice and the way he scooped Francis' hand into his, bringing it to his lips and kissing his knuckles with flourish made Francis falter once again. A blush spread across the Frenchman's cheeks as he seemed to remember how easily the Englishman could worm his way into Francis' heart.

Arthur sensed the anger begin to ebb from the tavern owner, and he smirked. "Besides, I did not wish to disturb such a beautiful creature in slumber~" the flirtation in his voice made Francis glare again, and the Frenchman crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

"And I suppose you do not have any other whores at other ports pining over you?" Francis' tone betrayed his jealousy at the idea that Arthur had been sleeping with others in between his visits to Francis.

"None that I have been pining over in return – "

He thought the response was charming, but he flinched as he felt a sharp pain sting his right cheek. Francis had slapped him for admitting that there were indeed other whores, and Arthur mentally cursed. But the slap had made whatever self-control he had snap, and he grabbed Francis by the shoulders, slamming him back against the wall.

Francis gasped, tensing as he thought Arthur was angry with him for raising his hand to him, but the Captain suddenly leaned in, kissing him with such passion and desperation that Francis melted like wax in the pirate's arms.

All of the anger that Francis had felt towards Arthur was now converted into passion, and he kissed Arthur back fiercely, having been craving the Captain's rough touch ever since he was deprived of it.

Francis was more rough than last time, and so was Arthur. The Englishman ripped open Francis' shirt, his rough hands moving down the Frenchman's torso before resting on his hips, squeezing them and holding him still while Arthur ground against him.

Francis let out a gasp of surprise, before a low moan reverberated into the kiss as Arthur ground against him. In retaliation, he reached up, knocking Arthur's hat off carelessly and tangling one hand in his unruly blonde locks, tugging at it harshly.

The Captain let out a growl as he felt Francis tug his hair, but he had to admit that it was very arousing to have Francis being so rough with him. Arthur broke the kiss, in favour of sucking and biting the Frenchman's collarbone. Francis let out a soft yelp of surprise as Arthur bit him, but it slowly turned into a moan as he fumbled with Arthur's shirt, eventually pulling it off impatiently. He ran his slender fingers over Arthur's numerous scars, dragging his nails over the Englishman's skin roughly.

The Captain grinned, loving the feeling of pain as he tugged down Francis' breeches, his grin widening as he saw how aroused his lover was.

"My my, Francis." Arthur purred, and the Frenchman panted softly as his sparkling blue eyes slowly met Arthur's hungry emerald gaze. "Have you been feeling lonely recently?~"

Francis blushed darkly, having given up trying to satisfy himself for almost two months, so he was more sensitive to Arthur's electric touch. He couldn't respond though as Arthur reached down, stroking him slowly. Francis let out a low moan, resting his forehead against Arthur's bare shoulder as he leaned against him.

The Captain smirked, allowing Francis a moment of gentle treatment, before suddenly slamming him back against the wall roughly, squeezing his member hard enough to earn him a shocked gasp and a pained groan.

The Frenchman reached up, gripping Arthur's shoulders as he bucked into his hand desperately, whining into the pirate's ear softly, and the mere sound made Arthur's own erection becoming painful. The Captain stroked Francis' erection hard, keeping him pinned against the wall with his own body as he kissed him harshly again. The tavern owner moaned into the kiss, parting his lips immediately for the possessive Englishman, who wasted no time in claiming his lover's mouth and tongue.

The pleasure was becoming too much for Francis, and as Arthur kept pumping his erection, the Frenchman felt the heat of climax pool in his lower region. He moaned against the pirate's lips, trying to warn him that he was close, but he could only gasp as he suddenly released into the Captain's waiting hand, his body tensing. Arthur broke the kiss swiftly, watching as Francis climaxed and wondering how the Frenchman could possibly be so beautiful. He observed how the tavern owner threw his head back, moaning Arthur's name so erotically that the Captain let out a growl of lust.

Francis cheeks were flushed a pretty pink, his brilliant blue eyes sparkling with the wave of pleasure he had experienced. Arthur grinned as Francis fell heavily against him, holding the Frenchman between the wall and his own chest, brushing their lips as Francis slowly caught his breath.

"I'm not finished with you yet, love~" the Captain purred, emerald eyes meeting cerulean briefly before he claimed Francis' bruised lips again hungrily.

* * *

 **A/N: So I decided to save the rest of the sexy fun times for the next chapter as this one was getting a little too long.**

 **Please review and let me know what you think about Arthur visiting Francis again!**

 **Did you like how Arthur wants Francis more when he's angry?**

 **Love you all x**


	5. Promise (M)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **Warning: This chapter contains smutty goodness~**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

Francis groaned as Arthur claimed his lips in a bruising kiss, loving how much rougher the Captain was being, and he vaguely remembered how he had struck Arthur and elicited this response from him. A slightly mischievous smirk graced his lips as the Frenchman suddenly pushed Arthur back from the kiss, deciding to make the Captain want him more.

The English pirate paused as Francis pushed him back, hesitating as he thought maybe he was being too rough, but when he saw the enticing smirk on the Frenchman's features, he realised that Francis was only teasing him.

Arthur grinned, grabbing Francis' biceps so he couldn't push him away again, forcing him back against the wall. The Frenchman's heart pounded in a flurry at Arthur's rough treatment, and as Arthur kissed him again, he kissed back fervently. He parted his lips in invitation, and the Captain did not miss a beat, invading Francis' mouth with his tongue as expertly as if he was plundering a village.

Francis couldn't hold back his moans as Arthur placed his leg between the Frenchman's, purposefully rubbing his knee against Francis' crotch to excite him again. Hearing the addictive mewls his lover let out spurred Arthur on more, and he placed his hands on Francis' hips, pinning him against the wall as he shifted to grind his whole body against the Frenchman.

Francis could hardly breathe from the pleasure and close proximity of the man he was so in love with, having to break the kiss to pant. Arthur grinned as he saw the effect he was having on the Frenchman, addicted to the delicious sounds his lover was making.

"A-Arthur…!" Francis whined, bucking against Arthur desperately. The Captain only smirked, grabbing Francis once more but this time tearing him away from the wall, pinning him to the bed instead. The Frenchman gasped in surprise at the sudden action, but suddenly the pirate was on top of him, grinding against him and sucking at that sensitive spot on his neck.

Francis quickly became a moaning mess underneath the pirate, and Arthur listened to every beautiful sound the Frenchman made, each moan making the Captain more impatient to be inside him. Francis panted softly as Arthur relented long enough to rid himself of his own pesky breeches, and he let out a groan as he remembered how large the pirate was, tensing slightly in both anxiety and anticipation.

The Captain smirked, moving down Francis' naked body before leaning in and placing soft kisses to his inner thighs. The Frenchman let out a soft moan of pleasure, but he yelped slightly as Arthur's kisses turned to biting the sensitive skin as he simply couldn't help himself. He wanted every part of Francis to be blemished with bitemarks and small bruises, to mark the beautiful man as his and his alone.

Arthur spread Francis' legs more, smirking as Francis let out a mewl of pleasure in response to the Captain's tongue invading his entrance. The Frenchman bucked and squirmed slightly, as the sensation was entirely strange but completely wonderful, and he felt himself drawing close again just at the feeling.

"A-Arthur, _mon cher_!" he moaned out, the desperation in his tone betraying how close he was. And Arthur pulled back.

Francis let out a whine of frustration as Arthur deprived him of release, and his half-lidded blue eyes met the Captain's intense and predatory emerald ones.

"Now now, love. I cannot let you have all the fun, can I?~" he purred, although he was particularly enjoying the sound and sight of the very turned on Frenchman.

In response, Francis kept his legs spread invitingly, reaching up and wrapping his arms around Arthur's neck as he whispered huskily against his earlobe. "Then hurry up and fuck me~"

The Captain shivered involuntarily as Francis nipped his earlobe, extremely turned on by the more confident side of his lover, and he lined up, not bothering to prepare the Frenchman beforehand.

Francis tensed slightly as he realised this, but he forced himself to relax as he knew it wouldn't hurt for long. His eyes shot open and he screamed as Arthur entered him, feeling pain that outweighed pleasure as he clung to the English Captain, digging his nails into his shoulder blades and burying his face against Arthur's shoulder as he tried to wait out the pain.

Arthur groaned at the tightness, holding still though as he realised Francis was in pain. He gently whispered soothing promises in his lover's ear, flicking his tongue over Francis' earlobe to distract him from the pain. The Frenchman groaned softly, letting out a small whimper as his body slowly adjusted to the unwelcome intrusion.

It took a good few minutes and a hell of a lot of patience on Arthur's part, as he was desperate to make love to his beautiful Frenchman, but eventually Francis gave a shaky sigh, wriggling experimentally.

" _O-Oui_ , you can move now, _cher…_ " the tavern owner breathed out, and it was all the invitation the pirate needed.

Wasting no time, Arthur drew out almost to the tip, before plunging back into Francis, eliciting a startled moan from his lover. The Captain smirked as he continued to thrust deeply, picking up the pace eagerly. Francis panted heavily, moaning underneath him as the rough treatment still hurt, but the spasms of pain were forgotten with each powerful wave of pleasure, and soon Francis was lost in ecstasy, bucking up towards his lover in encouragement, wanting more.

The candles illuminating the room flickered with the constant movement of the two men, causing long shadows to dance over their sweat-glistened bodies. Francis was vaguely aware of a perfume Arthur wore, smiling slightly between moans and gripping Arthur's shoulders more tightly.

His whole body tensed and he let out a scream as his vision went dark for a moment and the most unbelievable pleasure bolted through him. Arthur grinned, shifting slightly before ramming into the Frenchman's prostate over and over again, loving every scream that forced its way past Francis' bruised lips.

Already addicted to the man's screams, the Captain did everything he could to make Francis scream louder and louder. Showing no mercy, he sank his teeth into the soft, delicate skin above Francis' collarbone, making the Frenchman jolt and shriek slightly, tears in his beautiful blue eyes, but he did not complain, secretly adoring how much Arthur could make him feel.

Francis could feel that he was close, but he was screaming so much that he could not summon the words to inform Arthur, but it did not matter. The pirate smirked down at him, grunting as he slammed as hard as he could into the Frenchman's body, practically tearing him apart in his attempts to bring him over the edge.

"Arthur!" Francis yelled out, eyes shooting open and his chest arching towards his lover as he climaxed, tensing around Arthur and causing him to release inside him just after. Arthur moaned Francis' name as he released, brushing his lips against Francis' shoulder as he did so.

The two men stayed still for a few moments, both panting heavily as they slowly came back down to Earth, and Arthur slowly pulled himself out of his lover, being far gentler now. The night fell silent as Arthur lied down beside Francis, smiling softly as the tavern owner curled into his embrace, resting his head against the Captain's shoulder.

Arthur held him close, playing with Francis' silky hair softly as he was finished being rough with him. Francis closed his eyes, and after a while, when Arthur assumed he had fallen asleep, he opened his eyes, glancing up at his lover.

" _Mon cher_ …" he whispered, his voice soft and slightly hoarse from all the screams.

The pirate blinked, his emerald eyes meeting Francis' sapphire ones. "Yes, love?"

The Frenchman traced his fingers over Arthur's arm gently, humming softly. "This scar is new…" he mumbled.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, surprised that Francis even remembered what scars he didn't have at their last meeting. "It is." He confirmed, letting Francis' hair slip through his fingers.

"Who gave it to you?" his lover asked, his slender fingers caressing the pink scar delicately.

"Some Spanish bastard." Arthur replied simply with a smile, pressing a light kiss to his temple. "But I gave him a much larger one on his chest."

At this, Francis smiled, feeling a flutter of pride and admiration as he remembered the man he was currently cuddling up to was The Blood Captain, not just his Arthur.

The two were silent again for a few minutes, and Arthur closed his eyes, exhausted from their love-making. He was almost in the realm of sleep, when he heard Francis' faint voice, his accent thicker as he was almost asleep as well.

"…Promise you'll be here when I wake up…" Francis whispered, nuzzling against Arthur's chest.

Arthur hesitated, wanting so badly to swear he would be, but he knew he would have to leave in the morning. So he did not respond, pretending to be asleep.

Francis waited a few moments, before sighing softly and cuddling against the Captain's chest, savouring these moments when Arthur held him close, and trying not to think about when he would inevitably leave again.

* * *

 **A/N: And that is that chapter!**

 **Also check out 'The Experiment' by Copperbell111, it's an amazing FrUK story and I can 10/10 recommend it!**

 **Please review and let me know whether you think Arthur will be there when Francis wakes up, or whether he'll leave again like the last time?**

 **Love you all x**


	6. Au Revoir, Mon Amour

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

The soft rays of sun slipped through the gap in the curtains, falling upon Francis' sleeping features. As he sensed the disturbance, he stirred, slowly awakening. The white bedsheets were draped over his lower half, exposing his bare back and the Frenchman shivered as the morning was somewhat cool compared to the heat of last night. Beautiful blue eyes opened sleepily as Francis shifted again, his heart sinking as he did not feel a warm body next to him. Instead the bed felt cold and lonely, and Francis closed his eyes again, almost wishing that it was only a dream, and that he would wake up with Arthur holding him.

He curled up under the covers, hugging himself. Unbeknownst to him, the movement made a certain Englishman sat in the chair that faced Francis' back smirk.

"Good morning, love."

Francis froze, his eyes snapping open and he sat up so suddenly that his vision blacked out for a split second. When it cleared, he saw Arthur sat with one leg crossed over the other, dressed only in his shirt and breeches. His coat and hat were still discarded on the floor, and he smiled as he saw Francis' shocked expression.

The tavern owner stared wide-eyed at the Captain for a few moments, not sure if it was really him, or if he really was dreaming after all. Arthur's smile grew slightly as he saw Francis' hair tousled from sleep, and he was struck by how utterly gorgeous the Frenchman looked in the morning light.

"Arthur…you stayed?" Francis' accent was thick from sleep, and Arthur was unable to fight his urge to hold him. He stood, perching on the bed beside Francis and touching his cheek gently.

"I did, just until you woke up…" the English Captain murmured, captivated by Francis' sea-blue eyes.

His eyes saddened as he realised the implication; Arthur was still leaving. But he smiled as Arthur's lips met his, kissing him back softly and sweetly. It was such a contrast from the rough treatment the pirate had inflicted upon him the night before, but Francis loved it all the same. Soon though, Arthur delved his tongue past the Frenchman's lips, invading his mouth and eliciting a soft moan from his lover. Francis laid back on the bed slightly as Arthur leaned over him more, deepening the kiss.

All too quickly, the Captain pulled back to catch his breath, panting softly. Francis locked eyes with him, a soft smile dancing over his features, even though he knew Arthur would leave.

"You're so beautiful…" the pirate whispered against Francis' lips, closing is eyes briefly as he appreciated the moment, before drawing back and standing again.

Francis watched him, sitting up again too. "Will you return sooner this time?"

The English Captain hesitated, but there was no denying those beautiful blue eyes.

"I will do my best, love." He promised, touching the Frenchman's cheek affectionately.

Francis smiled brightly at this, before slipping out of bed and fetching Arthur's coat and boots for him. Arthur watched him unabashedly, not ashamed of staring at his lover's naked form with such a hungry stare.

The Captain smiled as he let Francis dress him, humming softly as his lover's slender fingers deftly slipped Arthur's scarlet coat over his shoulders, straightening it with an almost maternal affection. When he was done, Francis glanced back up at Arthur, his eyes as deep as the sea and Arthur found himself drowning in them.

"Promise me you will be careful…I-If anything were to happen to you…- "

Arthur was touched by the concern in the Frenchman's soft words, and he kissed his forehead gently. "Nothing will happen to me, darling. I will return to you no matter how long it takes."

This vow reassured Francis, and when Arthur pulled him into his arms, he snuggled against the pirate's strong chest, relishing in his embrace for a few moments.

Raucous, joyful shouts and jeers could be heard from the dock, the sounds faintly floating into the tavern room. Arthur sighed, reluctantly pulling back as his crew could well leave without him if their Captain was not present.

"I have to go now…" he murmured, and Francis nodded, more accepting of this fact because his lover had promised to return.

Arthur fished in his pocket, pulling out a swollen purse, and placed it into Francis' unexpecting hand. "This is to make sure the tavern will still be here when I return. How can I visit you if your delightful business goes under?~"

The Frenchman smiled at this, not daring to think about where the Captain 'earned' the money, but he could not deny that his tavern definitely needed the supplement.

" _Merci, mon cher_. I will be here, waiting for you~" he promised, pecking Arthur's lips gently, but the simple contact sealed the deal of Arthur's return.

The Captain gave a small sigh, his heart begging him not to leave the beautiful man before him, but his mind reiterated how his crew would leave without him. Making up his mind, he grabbed his weapons and hat, placing it atop his unruly blonde hair and giving the very smirk that made Francis feel weak at the knees.

"I will see you soon, my love."

Francis nodded, stepping aside for him. " _Au revoir, mon amour_ ~"

It was very difficult for Arthur to force his legs into motion, but he stubbornly succeeded, winking at his lover before leaving the small bedroom, going down the rickety stairs and leaving the tavern, trying to ignore the screaming of his heart.

Francis smiled as he watched him go, before scooping up the bedsheets, wrapping them around his waist to make himself somewhat decent. Once he deemed himself to be, he went out onto the tiny balcony of the room, able to spot Arthur making his way towards his awaiting ship.

Arthur felt the urge to look back, and as he did, he saw his lover out on the balcony, watching him leave. With a smirk, Arthur turned to him, taking off his hat and sweeping it under him in a flamboyant, swooping bow.

Francis grinned as he saw this, feeling his heart flutter.

Satisfied that he had entertained the Frenchman, Arthur straightened up, returning his hat to his head, before boarding his ship. Instantly, he donned his fearsome, ruthless Captain persona once more, barking orders without hesitation. But Francis was still in the back of his mind, even as Arthur went about his business on deck.

Francis watched as _The Bloody Rose_ slowly left the harbour, keeping his eyes firmly on the vessel until it disappeared beyond the horizon. Smiling softly, the Frenchman turned back, returning to the bedroom. He failed to notice the suspiciously tanned vagabond on the street below him.

The vagabond had observed the interactions between Francis and Arthur, and when both men had left, he gathered his things, returning to the tiny boat he had concealed on the deserted part of the dock, before returning to the Spanish ship he had been sent from.

* * *

 **A/N: I apologize for the short chapter but this week is busy for me and I'm not feeling well at all, but I wanted to give you guys something as I know it's been a bit longer than usual since I last updated.**

 **Please review and let me know what you thought of Arthur staying until Francis woke up. Also what about the strange vagabond at the end? I wonder what his purpose is…XD**

 **Love you all x**


	7. A Fatal Mistake

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **Warning: This chapter contains major(ish) character death and violence.**

 **Otherwise, enjoy~**

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

"You are such a stupid _bastardo_ , you know that?" Lovino complained, sat on Captain Carriedo's bed with his arms folded across his chest. "And this is a stupid plan."

Antonio only grinned, selecting his attire for his planned encounter with Captain Kirkland. "It will work, Lovi, I promise!~"

"You haven't even recovered from the last time he beat your ass!" The Italian boy voiced his opinion very easily, not caring that he was insulting his Captain's actions.

The Spaniard smiled goofily. "Aw, are you worried about me, Lovi?~" he teased, coming over to him, wearing only his breeches. He was shirtless and he had a bandage over his chest from where Arthur had stabbed him. Lovino looked up and blushed darkly at the sight of his half-naked Captain, before averting his gaze quickly.

Antonio grinned again, tilting the Italian's chin up so that Lovino was forced to meet his gaze again, and he brushed his lips against the boy's gently, murmuring. "Are you worried about your Captain?~"

Lovino scowled at him, but he leaned up, connecting their lips softly. He and Antonio had been lovers ever since Antonio discovered Lovino stowing away on his ship. It was why the Spaniard was so tolerant of Lovino's criticisms.

Lovino pulled back, blushing darkly as he mumbled. "Of course I am. Because you're always doing stupid things…"

Antonio smiled, leaning over him slightly and forcing Lovino to lie back on the bed. " _Si_ , but it was doing stupid things that made you fall in love with me~"

The Italian rolled his eyes, about to make a sarcastic comment in return, but he was cut off by the Spaniard's lips hungrily claiming his again. He hated being interrupted, but his anger melted as Antonio's tongue found its way past his lips, making Lovino moan softly. The Italian hated that Antonio had such an effect on him, but he found the Spaniard addicting and the fact that he was shirtless certainly did not help Lovino's willpower in the slightest.

Antonio snaked one hand under Lovino's shirt, but before he could get any further a knock came at the door. The Spanish Captain pulled back reluctantly, straightening up.

" _Un momento_!" he called, pulling a shirt on and giving Lovino time to stand and smarten himself up again, before he gestured for the Italian to answer the door.

Glaring at him, Lovino opened the door to a man he did not recognise, but Antonio grinned.

"Ah! My little _espiar_ ~ Did you find out what business Kirkland has in Calais?" the Captain sat at his desk, gesturing for Lovino to let the man in.

The spy strode over, sitting opposite Antonio. " _Si_ , he has a man there."

Antonio raised an eyebrow. "A man?"

The spy nodded. "He runs an old tavern near the dock. Kirkland spent the night there and when he left, the man watched him go from the window of one of the rooms."

"How interesting~" Antonio purred, playing with the cross he wore around his neck.

Lovino listened silently, seeing the smirk on his lover's face as the Spanish Captain began forming a plan.

"And what does he look like, hm?"

"Like a woman." The spy described gruffly. "Long yellow hair. Blue eyes."

At this, Antonio let out a chuckle. "I suppose I shall have to pay a visit to Kirkland's little Frenchman~" he rose out of his chair, dismissing the spy as he went up on deck, shouting orders to set a course for Calais.

XxX

Arthur sighed as he already missed Francis, but he felt much happier than the last time he had left him, and he silently vowed that he would always say goodbye before he left. The English Captain was stood on deck, looking out at the calm sparkling waters, when he spotted the familiar and unwelcome sight of _The Esmerelda_ on the horizon, and coming this way. The two ships were in Spanish waters, but Arthur had grown protective of the Calais port and didn't want the Spaniard sailing in French waters.

 _He would be too close to Francis._

He barked at his crew to prepare for an engagement with the Spanish ship, and the men fell into their unspoken roles to bring the ship about, readying the cannons.

Cannon fire filled the air as _The Bloody Rose_ and _The Esmerelda_ engaged in combat, neither Captain holding anything back. Antonio was fighting with the intent to put an end to his rival, whereas Arthur was fighting to protect Francis from the Spanish Captain and his merciless crew.

The two majestic ships crashed into each other, the sound of splintering wood filling the air in a deafening way, and Arthur lost his balance, tumbling backwards onto the deck. When he righted himself, Captain Carriedo was standing in front of him, sword drawn.

" _Hola_ , Captain Kirkland~" the Spaniard grinned, barely giving Arthur time to draw his own sword before he lunged.

Arthur dodged the attack, drawing his sword swiftly and blocking the next assault from the Spanish Captain. Antonio laughed as the ships lurched again, managing to keep his balance although Arthur stumbled once more.

"What's the matter, _mi amigo_? You seem to be losing your touch~" Antonio purred, slicing Arthur's arm almost effortlessly.

Arthur grit his teeth as he registered the pain, but then a single thought entered his mind.

 _Francis._

 _I need to protect Francis._

With this thought circulating in his mind, Arthur smirked, lunging at the Spaniard and anticipating his side step, following and swiftly swinging. Antonio widened his eyes as he only just managed to block it, astonished by Arthur's sudden change in motivation.

Arthur grinned as he and Antonio engaged in a rapid parry, a lethal one where if one did not keep up, he would be quickly finished off. The ships lurched and shuddered under their feet, making stumbling onto the other's sword far more likely, but both were too focused to pay much heed to these factors. They also did not notice one person in particular watching the swordfight with wide eyes and baited breath, who then spurred into action, rushing from The Esmerelda onto the deck of The Bloody Rose.

Arthur was ferocious in his onslaught, his love for Francis fuelling his desire to end the man before him, and Antonio was more than surprised by the relentless force of the Englishman's attacks. He tried to dodge his attacks, but when he did, Arthur sliced the hand that held his sword, making the Spaniard drop his weapon and therefore disarming him effectively. Antonio yelped in pain, holding his hand, and he let out a gasp as Arthur aimed a powerful kick to his chest, pushing him to the floor.

Antonio widened his eyes as he knelt on the deck of The Bloody Rose, clutching his bleeding hand as Arthur pointed his sword at the Spaniard's throat.

"Any last words, Captain Carriedo?" Arthur smirked, retracting his sword and preparing to plunge it into the Spaniard's heart.

Antonio only glared at him. "I will see you in hell, Arthur."

Arthur grinned, thrusting his sword at the Spaniard, but all at once everything changed. The ships broke apart from each other just as someone barrelled between Arthur and Antonio, hugging the Spanish Captain as Arthur drove his sword into his back, still assuming his target was Antonio.

Lovino let out a gasp, clinging to Antonio as Arthur's sword went straight through his heart, and he shuddered.

Antonio's world stopped.

 _Lovi._

His beloved Italian had thrown himself in between the two Captain's to save Antonio's life.

Arthur widened his eyes, realising that he had killed one of the Spaniard's crew, a boy that Antonio seemed to be particularly fond of.

Lovino died instantly, as the sword ruptured his heart completely, and he fell forward against his Captain's chest, a trickle of blood escaping from the corner of his mouth.

Antonio let out a strangled sound as he caught Lovino, before cradling the boy in his arms.

"L-Lovi? Lovi!" he cried, tears welling in his eyes as the light had already left his beloved Italian's eyes.

Arthur stepped back, having intended to kill Antonio, but now he knew the Spaniard would definitely be after his blood. He knew an apology would be meaningless, and he prepared himself for the Spanish Captain to lash out at him.

But Antonio just stayed on the deck of _The Bloody Rose_ , cradling his dead lover in his arms, stroking his cheek and whispering in Spanish to him. The Spaniard seemed not to care whether anyone was watching, as he kissed Lovino's lips softly, and then passed a hand over the Italian's eyes to close them, before placing a gentle kiss to each eyelid. He tore his cross from his neck, holding it over Lovino and uttering a Catholic prayer so that Lovino's soul would be free to enter heaven, as the poor boy did not deserve to sail the seas aimlessly for all eternity.

Arthur did not know what to say, dropping his sword in surrender.

But Antonio had seemed to forget the English Captain was even there, focused on freeing Lovino's beautiful soul from his cold body. He placed gentle kisses all over Lovino's face, taking out his handkerchief and gently wiping the blood that trickled from his mouth.

After what seemed like an eternity, Antonio scooped Lovino's body into his arms, standing and crossing the deck, intent on returning to his ship, before he hesitated, turning back to Arthur with a hatred in his eyes that had never been present before.

"This is not over. I will take everything you love from you and you will watch." He threatened, his eyes dark with grief and anger. With that, he returned to _The Esmerelda_ , wordlessly taking Lovino's body to his cabin. The Spanish crew watched as he passed them, and with an unspoken understanding they readied the ship to set sail for Spain.

Arthur watched as the ship sailed away from _The Bloody Rose_ , and he knew that Antonio would do his best to follow through with his threat.

 _But at least he did not know about Francis…_

 _Did he?_

* * *

 **A/N: Oh dear…I think Francis needs to watch out~**

 **Please review and let me know what you think will happen to our precious Francis now?**

 **Love you all x**


	8. A Threat Fulfilled (M)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **Warning: This chapter is...well...stressful XD**

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

Francis hummed to himself as he leaned down the bar. He had been able to close early tonight and was rather happy about it, as he could do with a night off for once. Sighing in contentment, he poured himself a glass of wine, before hesitating and touching the necklace Arthur gave him. He tried not to think about the pirate too much, but on some nights, like tonight, he would want to go up to the little room that he now only let Arthur stay in, and he would look out of the window at the dock, hoping that he might see the familiar English ship waiting there.

Now, he went upstairs, wine glass in hand, and unlocked the door to the room. Once inside, the Frenchman allowed himself a small smile as he let his gaze travel around the room. He always kept it in as pristine a condition as he could, never knowing when Arthur might decide to visit. He lit a lone candle to illuminate the room dimly, before going over to the window, stepping out onto the balcony to sip his wine. But he gasped as he saw the unmistakable form of a ship in the dock. It was difficult to see in the darkness, but Francis heart soared as he thought Arthur was coming to visit him again.

Turning, he came back into the room, intending to rush back downstairs, but he froze as he saw a man in the doorway. He could not see the man clearly as the room was dark except for the lone candle, but he could see the outline of the large hat atop his head and he could hear the clink of weapons and buckles that a Captain would wear.

His breath hitched. "Arthur?" he guessed, but an unfamiliar chuckle told him otherwise.

The man stepped into the light, and Francis saw he had the same green eyes as his lover, but unruly brown hair and tanned skin.

"Good evening, _señor_." The man greeted in a heavy Spanish accent, and Francis widened his eyes as he remembered Arthur saying something about his Spanish rival. "I expect your dear Arthur has told you about me, _si_?"

Francis felt a feeling of unease coil in the pit of his stomach. " _Oui_ , he…mentioned you."

Antonio grinned, but Francis noted that the smile did not reach his dark eyes. "I am Antonio Fernandez Carriedo; Captain of _The Esmerelda_ – the glorious vessel you caught sight of in the harbour~"

The Spanish Captain's gaze made Francis feel like he was in grave danger, but he did not know why that would be the case. He grasped his wine glass, ready to use it as a weapon if necessary, but he knew he wouldn't stand much chance against the Spaniard's swords, daggers and pistols.

"And what is your name, I wonder?~" Antonio's tone was playful, but Francis sensed that this was only the surface of the man, and the fact that he was unreadable scared him.

After a moment of hesitation, he finally answered. "Francis…"

"Well then, Francis. I can certainly see why Arthur is so very fond of you~" Antonio made a point of looking the Frenchman up and down, making him feel degraded and objectified, and the tavern owner shifted slightly, uncomfortable under his intense gaze.

"What business do you have here, _monsieur_?" Francis asked pointedly, his tone defensive.

Antonio smirked, but it was not an enticing smirk like Arthur had, instead it was menacing, promising bad things. He stepped forward, into Francis' personal space, and hummed, touching his hair softly.

"It is such a pity. You are a very beautiful man, Francis…"

Francis slapped Antonio's hand away fiercely, and the Spaniard's smirk disappeared, and instead he caught Francis' wrist, squeezing it painfully and making the Frenchman wince in pain.

"But you see, the man you love is a cold-blooded murderer." The Spanish Captain gripped Francis' face with his other hand, keeping the Frenchman still and he ignored it when Francis tried to struggle against him, instead forcing him onto the bed.

Francis was terrified that Antonio was going to rape him, but the Spaniard had no such intention.

"He killed my lover…" Antonio whispered, the pain now clear in his eyes, and for a moment, Francis felt sympathy for him, but he tried to shake his head.

"Y-You're lying…Arthur would never do that!" he rejected the idea, but there was no denying the honest grief in Antonio's now sombre expression.

The Spanish Captain said nothing, producing some cuts of thick rope from his coat pocket, and he tied one of Francis' wrists to the bedpost.

Francis watched him, trying to struggle but Antonio was holding him down with a determined strength. Antonio tied his other wrist, before gripping his face once more, smirking once more.

"I promised him I would take everything he loved and make him watch. And I know for a fact that he is sailing to Calais as we speak."

The Spaniard pulled back, leaving Francis tied to the bed as he picked up a few bottles of spirits that Francis only just noticed, and he proceeded to pour the alcoholic contents over the wooden floor and the bed, dousing Francis' clothes as well.

Then, Antonio picked up the candle that Francis had lit earlier, and he let out a joyless laugh. "If only he were in time to save you from the fire…"

Francis' eyes widened as Captain Carriedo dropped the candle on the floor, and it instantly caught on the alcohol-soaked floor, and the whole room quickly went up in flames. Francis screamed as he realised Antonio was going to burn him alive, and the last thing he saw was that dangerous smirk as Antonio tipped his hat to him, before leaving the room and setting the rest of the tavern alight.

Francis' eyes were wide with terror as the flames crept towards him, surrounding the bed, and he tugged on his restraints, but they would not budge. He could not escape, and it was only a matter of time before the flames would consume him.

XxX

Arthur sat in his cabin, nursing a bottle of rum that he took regular swigs from. He kept reliving the moment he had accidentally killed Lovino, and he knew that Antonio would not simply forgive and forget. He had had an uneasy feeling come over him after he watched The Esmerelda leave, and he had given orders for his crew to set sail for Calais once more. He wanted Francis to hold him as he confessed what he had done, and he wanted to feel the Frenchman's loving touch and warmth against him again.

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. They would reach Calais very soon, and Arthur could hardly wait to see his lover's beautiful smile.

Suddenly, shouts of alarm rose up from the deck, and Arthur's eyes snapped open. He pulled on his coat and grabbed his hat, rushing up on deck to see what all the fuss was about. One of the crew members had spotted The Esmerelda in the distance, and when Arthur looked towards the dock, he saw something bright up on the hill.

As they got closer, Arthur gasped, widening his eyes as he realised that Francis' tavern was ablaze. The crew docked the ship quickly, and Arthur leapt over the side of the ship, landing heavily on the wooden dock, but he wasted no time running up the hill. Several of the townspeople were observing the burning tavern, and Arthur scanned the crowd desperately for Francis.

He did not see him.

"Francis!" Arthur yelled, not caring what the local people would think of a notorious pirate yelling for the local tavern owner.

The only answer he received was a faint, muffled scream, and his heart dropped as he realised it had come from inside the tavern.

Francis!

Arthur shed his coat and hat, bursting into the tavern without a moment's hesitation, but as he did so, the screams stopped.

* * *

 **A/N: OOOOOH cliffhangers are my favourite! What is going to happen?!**

 **Please review and let me know what you think~~~~~**


	9. Loved And Lost

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

Arthur burst through the tavern door, gasping as all he saw was fire. The smoke was thick and black and the pirate tore off his own sleeve, covering his mouth and nose with it, before trying to find Francis.

"Francis!" he called out, though his voice was slightly muffled from the fabric over his face, and he realised he did not have much time.

His emerald eyes stung from the smoke and his body sweated heavily from the heat engulfing him, but he pressed on. He found his way to the staircase, which was half-burned and now even more unstable, and as Arthur stepped on the first stair, it collapsed under his feet.

The Captain somehow knew that his lover was upstairs, and so he backed up slightly, before running at the stairs and leaping, managing to catch the bannister with his rough hands and he hauled himself up onto the equally fire-engulfed second level of the tavern.

It was so dark that Arthur could barely see, and he quickly tried to feel his way towards the room they would share together, but he was already beginning to lose hope. The roof creaked and groaned, threatening to collapse at any moment, and Arthur knew he had maybe a minute before the whole tavern would crumble into charred wood.

With renewed vigour, Arthur kicked open the door to the little room that had once been so familiar, but now all he saw was fire and smoke, and the vague outline of the bed in the centre of the room.

Arthur's emerald eyes widened as he saw a limp figure on the bed, his arms above his head and tied to the bedposts.

 _Francis_.

The Captain rushed over to his lover, briefly inspecting him. The Frenchman was still alive, but barely, having passed out from smoke inhalation. Arthur quickly cut his restraints, scooping the unconscious man into his arms and carrying him out of the room. The staircase was entirely gone by the time Arthur reached it, but he held Francis close and jumped down to the ground floor, just as the tavern roof began to cave in, and the walls began to shudder and fall.

Wasting no time, Arthur burst through the window of the tavern with Francis in his arms, landing heavily outside but at least they were safe. He took a few deep breaths, coughing heavily, before turning his attention to Francis.

The Frenchman's pulse was weak, and Arthur panicked, trying to breathe clean air into his lungs. The local people watched in astonishment, but Arthur no longer cared. He murmured a prayer to whomever might be listening, asking them to spare Francis. He kept giving him the kiss of life, not giving up even when it had been two minutes without a single response.

Tears slipped down the Englishman's cheeks as he shouted at Francis to wake up and open his damn eyes, and he cupped his face and breathed air into his lungs again and again, but he was beginning to falter.

Another minute passed, before Francis suddenly spluttered, opening his eyes with some great effort as he gasped and coughed, before turning to the side and vomiting on the grass. His body trembled, but Arthur felt a flood of relief that Francis was still alive. He gently scooped the Frenchman into his arms again, kissing his temple.

"It's alright, love…You're safe now…" he whispered, holding Francis close.

Francis did not know what had happened, only that Arthur was here, and he was holding him. With great difficulty, Francis raised his head, looking over Arthur's shoulder, and he widened his eyes as he saw the pile of ashes that his tavern had become. The locals were now trying to put out the fire, fetching buckets of water from the harbour, but the damage was already done.

The sight of everything the Frenchman had to his name being destroyed was too much, and Francis fainted once more, leaning against Arthur's chest. The Captain picked him up, taking him on board The Bloody Rose and gently laying him on the bed in the Captain's cabin.

He let Francis sleep, keeping watch over him during the night, but he had no idea how to face him in the morning. Arthur knew that Antonio had been behind this, and while he accepted that he should be punished for killing Lovino, the mere thought of Francis getting hurt was enough to make Arthur vow to end the Spanish Captain.

What Arthur did was an accident, but Antonio had deliberately tried to burn his lover alive, and Arthur was going to kill him for it.

XxX

Francis awoke slowly, his head throbbing and his chest aching, although it took him over a minute to remember what had happened the night before. Gradually, fragmented images of his tavern becoming a smouldering pile rushed to the forefront of his mind, and he sat up too quickly, coughing and feeling the urge to vomit again to clear the tainted smoke residue from his lungs.

He sluggishly left the bed, looking around at the room he did not recognise, but he saw maps and charts on the polished, wooden desk, and he saw Arthur's scarlet coat and hat resting on the back of the desk chair. Slowly, he pieced together that he was on _The Bloody Rose_ , and that meant Arthur had returned.

His happiness at Arthur's return ebbed away though as he recalled his encounter with Captain  
Carriedo, and he remembered that Arthur had killed someone; an innocent boy. He had been the one to make the Spanish Captain try to kill him, and Francis felt a deep-seated fear that the Spaniard would return to finish the task.

The Frenchman stumbled up onto the deck, finding his way off the ship hurriedly, and narrowly missing Arthur, who came back to the cabin to check on Francis, only to find he was not there.

The Englishman panicked, thinking that Antonio had somehow swiped him, and he rushed off the ship as well, but he felt relief wash over him as he saw Francis standing in front of the crumbling remains that was once his beloved tavern.

Arthur climbed the hill, approaching Francis carefully. "Francis? I think you should rest a while longer…"

Francis did not respond, his beautiful blue eyes surveying the damage and silent tears slipped down his cheeks. "…I have lost everything…my possessions…my work…my home…"

Arthur's expression softened, and he reached out to put a hand on Francis' shoulder gently. "At least you are alright, darling…- "

Francis suddenly flinched at Arthur's touch, whirling around to face him with a fury that Arthur had not expected. "You! You did this! This was all your fault!" he screamed, curling his hands into fists and beating them against Arthur's chest with real anger, but the Englishman let him, knowing he needed to let it out. "You bastard!"

At this, Arthur caught his hands firmly, holding them in place against his own chest. "Francis, this wasn't me…this was Antonio – "

"You killed his lover! If you hadn't done that, I would still have my tavern!" Francis snapped, his eyes ablaze with anger, and he wrenched his hands out of Arthur's grasp, his wrists still red and raw from the rope Antonio had tied him to the bed with.

"I – That was an accident – " Arthur stopped, stunned, as Francis slapped him hard across the cheek.

Pain flared in his cheek as Arthur registered the slap, and he saw that behind Francis' anger was fear – he was scared that Antonio would come back and hurt him again, and he blamed Arthur because he was there.

"I wish you had never stopped in Calais the first time." Francis hissed, his emotions getting the better of him, and he said things he did not mean. "I never want to see you again, Arthur."

Arthur's lips parted in shock. "Wait – Francis, I'm sorry this happened to you…but I would do anything to see you again…please…"

But Francis only glared at him. "I hate you! You have done nothing but ruin my life! You made me love you and then you spent all your time out at sea, leaving me behind to pine after you…And then you put me in danger!"

Arthur listened to Francis' words, and he was right. He was right. All he wanted to do was keep Francis safe, and he had failed.

"Forgive me, love…I never meant for you to get hurt." The English Captain lowered his gaze in resignation, before sighing. "I shall leave and never come back, if that is what you want."

Francis said nothing, his heart screaming at him to take it back, as he was so in love with Arthur he could not bear the thought of never seeing him again, but he was so gripped by the fear that he would be killed by a vengeful pirate, that he could not take it back.

Arthur took Francis' silence as affirmation, and he nodded, giving a sad smile. "Farewell then, my love." He produced a fat purse from his pocket, placing it in Francis' hand. "this should help you to rebuild your tavern…"

Francis took the money reluctantly, looking up at Arthur, but the Englishman had already turned to leave. A deep conflict erupted within the Frenchman as he watched his lover walk away, and he wanted to run after him but was rooted to the spot. He wanted to call out to him but he had lost his voice.

All he could do was watch with heartbroken eyes as blue as the sea, while Arthur boarded his ship. He watched as The Bloody Rose set sail, disappearing over the horizon, and tears slipped down his cheeks as he realised he would never see Captain Arthur Kirkland, the man who had stolen his heart, ever again.

* * *

 **A/N:….So yay Francis is alive! But I destroyed their relationship because I can't have my story getting too happy now, can I?**

 **Please review and let me know what you think of Francis' reaction! Is he right to be scared of getting hurt again, or do you think he should have been more trusting of Arthur?**

 **And oh dear, is Antonio in trouble now? XD**

 **Love you all x**


	10. Comeuppance (M)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **Warning: this chapter contains character death! You have been warned~**

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

Nine long years passed, and Arthur had kept true to his word. Not once had he returned to Calais, and he had no idea how Francis was. But he made sure that Antonio did not return to Calais because he guarded the French waters religiously, rarely straying from them so he would not let _The Esmerelda_ slip past him.

The Englishman was now thirty-two years old, but still as agile and skilled as he had always been, and he made sure to fight Antonio mercilessly every time they met. He would never give the Spaniard a chance to repent for what he did, having already sworn to take his life for trying to take Francis from him.

In nine years he had not been able to kill Antonio, but as the years passed, he noticed the Spaniard was becoming less willing to raise his sword in defence of Arthur's blows. However, Arthur had only one goal now, and if Antonio wanted to make it easier for him then he was not going to concern himself over the reasons behind it.

Now _, The Esmerelda_ and _The Bloody Rose_ clashed once more, and Arthur had lost count of the number of times he had engaged in a dangerous swordfight with Antonio by now. But this time, something was different. When Antonio swung over onto the deck of _The Bloody Rose_ , he stumbled. Usually he would land perfectly, but this time he swayed more than the ship he sailed, and it was very clear that he was intoxicated.

Arthur only smirked, as at least the Spanish bastard had the decency to make the job easier for him. But Antonio did not draw his sword, instead just standing before the man who strived to kill him.

"Do it." The Spaniard whispered.

Arthur paused, raising an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said do it, _amigo_. Finish it. It is only what I deserve…" there was no playful lilt in Antonio's voice anymore, and his green eyes were dark with depression and grief.

"Why couldn't you finish it yourself? Why did you seek me out?" Arthur queried, pointing his sword at Antonio's throat.

Antonio only smiled weakly. "Because I knew you would revel in the satisfaction of taking my life. After all, it is what you have spent the past nine years trying to do, _si_?"

When Arthur still hesitated, the Spanish Captain stepped towards him.

"We have both sinned – we have too much blood on our hands, Arthur. Let us end this, once and for all." Arthur barely had time to register Antonio's words, before the Spaniard moved far too quickly, revealing a dagger he had hidden up his sleeve, and he plunged it into Arthur's belly.

The English Captain let out a gasp, widening his eyes as he felt the pain, and as the blood seeped into his crisp, white shirt, he made one final move, thrusting his sword up through Antonio's throat.

The Spanish Captain made a strange gurgling sound, but his eyes sparkled with the final hope that he would be reunited with Lovino, and as he fell to his knees, his last thought was of the Italian's soft lips against his own, before the light left his eyes.

Antonio's body fell to the deck, blood trickling from his open throat.

Arthur took shallow breaths, slowly pulling the dagger out of his chest with trembling fingers, before leaning heavily against the side of the ship. His crew shouted, seeing that their Captain was dying, but Arthur managed to stay on his feet, his hand pressed firmly against his side.

"S-Set sail…for…Calais…" he managed to say, and his crew obediently threw Antonio's body overboard, lifting the anchor and setting rapid course for the port they had not visited in nine years.

XxX

The past nine years Francis had kept busy. He was now thirty-five and still had his youthful good looks, but now it was paired with the wisdom that fatherhood brought. He had rebuilt his beloved tavern, doing his best to replicate the old one as closely as he could, and business was booming. He had met a nice young woman while still in his grief over Arthur and had hastily bedded her. When she fell pregnant, Francis had no choice but to marry her, for he would not condemn the poor lady to a life of shunning. She had unfortunately passed away giving birth to their son, but now Francis had Matthew, his eight-year-old, who helped him run the tavern.

Matthew was the only thing he had left in the world, and he spent his time devoted to raising his son as best he could on his own. The Frenchman never allowed himself to think of Arthur, and he had never said a word to his late wife or to Matthew about him.

On this particular day, the tavern was closed as Francis promised Matthew they would spend time together, and so the two of them were sat at the bar, and Francis was teaching Matthew English. The child was bright and whenever he understood something, his violet eyes would light up and his little unruly curl would bounce atop his head of blonde curls. He looked a lot like Francis, and there was no mistaking their shared blood.

Francis ruffled Matthew's hair as the boy was catching on quickly, and the Frenchman was so proud of how perceptive his son was. No one else in the town spoke English all that well, but Matthew was becoming even better than Francis, and he was only eight.

Time ran away from them quickly, and Francis blinked as Matthew's stomach rumbled. "Oh my, we have forgotten to eat lunch!" he beamed, standing. "What would you like, _mon petit_? Pancakes?"

Matthew's eyes lit up as pancakes were his favourite thing in the whole world. "Yes please, Papa…" he answered politely.

"Alright, Matthew~ I shall be one moment." Francis smiled brightly, kissing the top of his head before disappearing into the little kitchen at the back of the tavern.

Matthew stayed in the front, still pondering over the books he was studying English from. He became engrossed quite quickly, and jumped when there was a knock at the front door. He felt nervous, but he knew his Papa could not hear from the kitchen, and so he knew it was up to him to answer it.

Taking a breath, the shy boy hopped off the barstool, venturing over to the door and unlocking it, before pulling it open. Standing there was a man he did not recognise, who wore a scarlet coat and a large hat with a pure, white feather. Matthew looked up at him nervously.

"Um, s-sorry but the tavern is c-closed today, sir…" he began meekly.

Arthur looked down at the boy, unable to hide his surprise. "Ah – I was looking for a man named Francis, actually. Do you know him, lad?"

Matthew nodded shyly. " _Oui_ , he is my Papa…"

Arthur was stunned. Francis had a son? He knew it had been nine years, but he had no idea Francis would ever have a family. If he had a son, it must mean he has a wife, too. This thought sparked jealousy deep in his heart, but he forced a smile. The boy noticed he was leaning somewhat heavily against the doorframe, and he had always been taught to be polite.

"W-Would you like to come in? I will fetch my P-Papa for you…" Matthew stood aside, and Arthur gratefully entered, sitting in a chair and pulling his coat around him slightly, as if he was trying to conceal something.

"Thank you, my boy." He said simply, and when Matthew ran to fetch Francis, Arthur's smile dropped. The pain he was in was tremendous, and he had barely managed to make it to the tavern.

He froze, suddenly nervous as he heard Francis' voice from the back of the tavern.

"You must never let strangers in, _mon petit_ , you never know who they could – "

Francis appeared, in the midst of chastising Matthew, but as soon as he saw Arthur the words died in his throat.

He widened his eyes, rooted to the spot much as he had been nine years ago when he watched Arthur leave.

And now he was back...

* * *

 **A/N: …I love making a lot happen in one chapter haha XD So, Arthur's dying, and he came to see Francis one last time.**

 **Please review and let me know what you think is going to happen – is Francis going to turn him away, or is he going to admit he still loves him?**

 **And what about Matthew?**

 **Love you all x**


	11. One More Time (M)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **Warning: This chapter contains grossness XD you have been warned~**

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

Weakly, Francis spoke to Matthew, not taking his gaze from Arthur. " _Mon petit_ , go upstairs…"

Matthew looked between the two men, very curious, but he gathered his books and went upstairs obediently.

A long silence stretched between them. Francis leaned against the bar counter as if he was having trouble standing. Arthur was sat in the chair, concealing his wound.

Eventually, he heaved a sigh. "Hello, love."

Francis' eyes flickered with emotion at the term of endearment, pursing his lips slightly. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you." Arthur confessed, thinking how beautiful the Frenchman still looked.

The tavern owner's heart beat faster, but his mind would not allow him to display his feelings so openly. "I told you never to come back."

"I know, but I wanted to tell you that Antonio is finally gone. You are safe from him now…"

Francis flinched slightly at the mention of the Spaniard; the painful trauma still haunted him in nightmares. "How can you be sure?"

"Because I drove my sword through his throat." Arthur said almost nonchalantly, not missing the look of disgust on Francis' features as the Frenchman pictured the scene.

Francis felt saddened by Antonio's death only because he knew he had lost his lover, but he could not deny the relief he felt knowing that he and Matthew would be safe now. He gave a small nod, absentmindedly playing with the necklace around his neck. It was the very same necklace Arthur had given him after their first night together, and Arthur felt a pang in his heart as he recognised it; his heart hurt more than his stab-wound ever could.

Wanting to change the subject, the pirate shifted in his seat, instantly regretting it though as he felt a sharp pain from his chest.

"Ah – so, you have a son." It was a statement, leaving many questions surrounding it unspoken.

Francis only nodded again, but he had always been far more perceptive than Arthur gave him credit for, and he noticed the small noise of pain Arthur made when he moved. Slowly, he nodded.

" _Oui_ , his name is Matthew." The Frenchman still leaned against the counter, but now he leaned across the bar and poured two glasses of whiskey. He never drank whiskey as it reminded him too much of Arthur, but not he needed something strong just to cope with the Englishman's return.

He crossed the room, finally coming closer to Arthur than he should have been prepared for, and placed the drink into the pirate's waiting hand. Arthur was bemused by the gesture, thinking Francis still hated him, but he realised that Francis had never really hated him. But it made telling him he was dying far more difficult.

"Thank you, love…How old is he?" Arthur was grateful for the drink, but instead of downing it like he used to, he sipped at it. Francis, on the other hand, put the drink to his lips and tossed his head back, drinking it with a thirst that Arthur found arousing, as he watched the Frenchman drink, remembering how it had been on their first night.

When he was done, Francis raised the back of his hand to his mouth, a faint blush dusting his cheeks, but slowly he found he was able to stand on his own a little better. "He is eight."

Arthur frowned slightly as that meant Francis had found himself a wife within months of Arthur leaving. He allowed his gaze to study the Frenchman now standing before him, and he wanted so desperately to have him once more, before his time on this earth expired. But he did not have the strength, and Francis would probably think badly of him if he proposed the idea.

"And how is your wife? What is her name?" Arthur ventured, but he knew his mistake when Francis frowned and turned away from him. "Francis…?"

"She died." The Frenchman said simply, gripping his empty glass. Although he had not loved her as he loved Arthur, she had meant a lot to him, and the thought of her still upset him.

"My condolences." Arthur murmured honestly, having not meant to upset him, but he could not deny that it made him happier to know that Francis was not taken anymore.

Francis sighed shakily, running a hand through his hair. "Why did you come here, Arthur?" He turned back to him, his beautiful blue eyes deep with emotion.

Arthur could not lie to him, but he chose to avoid the whole truth instead, so he merely smiled. "I just…wanted to see you one more time, my dear. That's all…"

Francis knew Arthur was not telling him everything, and he narrowed his eyes. "What aren't you telling me?"

The Captain knew Francis would find out if he stayed longer, so he slowly got to his feet, trying to hide all the pain that he was in. "Thank you for the drink, love." He said, before making a move to the door.

Francis widened his eyes, darting in front of him to stop him, and Arthur was forced to stop.

"Wait – " Francis began, terrified to lose Arthur again, though he didn't know how to convey it, so he did the only thing he could think of.

Arthur gasped softly as he felt Francis's lips on his, as the Frenchman kissed him suddenly and desperately, and the flame of old passion ignited quickly and grew into a fire that consumed Arthur's heart entirely. He forgot he was supposed to be concealing his injury as he slowly wrapped his arms around Francis' waist, kissing him back with all the love he could muster.

Francis closed his eyes, pressing closer to Arthur, but he broke the kiss instantly when Arthur let out a sudden groan of pain. "A-Arthur?"

The Frenchman looked up at him with concern in his beautiful blue eyes, not realising he had pressed against Arthur's stab-wound when he moved closer. Arthur grit his teeth, forcing a smile.

"I-It's nothing, love." He weakly tried to convince him, but Francis' gaze trailed down to his chest, and he gently opened Arthur's coat. The blood had seeped through the bandage and stained his shirt, and Francis saw the blood immediately, his eyes widening.

"O-Oh…Oh _mon dieu_ …- " Francis paled as his trembling hands carefully opened Arthur's shirt, revealing the blood-soaked bandages. He stared with wide eyes, and Arthur let him see it, as there was no point hiding it now. When he saw tears fill Francis' eyes, he cupped his face gently.

"Do not cry for me, darling. When I got Antonio, he got me too. I just wanted to see you once more before I left this world…" Arthur's voice was soft and gentle, and the tears fell freely down Francis' cheeks.

" _N-Non_ , you can't…you can't…" the Frenchman stumbled over his words, his accent growing thicker as he was upset, but Arthur kissed his forehead.

"It's alright, love. You can move on with your life, you can raise your son, and you'll never have to worry again about the bastard of a pirate who ruined your life…" he smiled softly, stroking Francis' cheek. "I just wanted to say goodbye to you…"

Francis was absolutely devastated, and with determination fierce in his eyes all of a sudden, he shook his head. " _Non_." He said.

Arthur blinked, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

" _Non_." Francis repeated, looking up at him. "You have left me too many times, Arthur. I shall not let you leave me again."

Arthur's lips parted slightly in surprise. "I – what? I thought you didn't even want to see me again…"

Francis only smiled softly, giving a sigh. "I was scared and upset. People say things they don't mean when they are emotional."

Arthur did not protest as Francis helped him upstairs, leading him to the room that was a replica of the room he used to rent for the night, and when Francis laid him down on the bed, Arthur did not complain.

Perhaps it was selfish, but the thought of dying in Francis' arms seemed far more appealing than dying alone in the middle of the ocean.

Francis wasted no time in making Arthur comfortable, propping him up with pillows and taking off his coat and shirt, before running to fetch some fresh bandages, some warm water, a needle and thread, and a cloth to clean his wound.

Arthur knew he had lost a lot of blood already, and that Francis' efforts would be in vain, but one look at the Frenchman's determined features and he did not have the heart to dissuade him.

Gently he laid back against the pillows, letting Francis take off his bandages, cleaning the wound. The Frenchman was very pale, and his fingers were shaking. Arthur could tell the sight of his gory wound was making Francis feel nauseous, but he persevered anyway, and for that Arthur was grateful. However, when Francis pushed up his own sleeves so they would not get dirty, he revealed a horrible burn on his forearm that was not recent, but had scarred.

Arthur stared at the burn, guilt flooding him. Francis glanced at him, following his gaze and looking down. "Oh – " he had forgotten about the burn as it no longer pained him, but he forced a smile. "It's alright…it could have been far worse. But it wasn't, thanks to you…"

Arthur looked back up at his face, seeing his smile, but he could not forgive himself. "It should never have happened in the first place…"

Francis washed his hands in the bowl on the bedside table, before sighing. "I never did thank you for saving my life…I was too busy shouting at you…" A small blush spread across his cheeks as he remembered what he had done. "I am sorry I behaved so…hysterically. I should have thanked you for rescuing me…"

Arthur only smiled. "You had every right to yell at me, love. And besides, even if you had not wanted me to, I would have saved you a hundred times."

Francis raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "Do I seem like that much of a damsel in distress?~" he teased lightly, and Arthur's heart fluttered as he wanted to sit up and kiss Francis so badly.

"Always~" he returned with a smirk.

"Then what does that make you, if I am the one tending to your wounds?" Francis asked as he got out the needle and thread, and instantly Arthur's heart leapt into his throat.

"E-Even heroes have their flaws…What are you doing with that, darling?" he asked as calmly as he could, but Francis could tell he was nervous.

"Just close your eyes and relax, mon cher." The term of endearment made Arthur's heart flutter more, and reluctantly he did as he was told, hoping that it would not hurt.

Francis held the needle in the flame of the candle on the bedside table to sterilise it, but he was nervous himself. He had never done this before, and the sight of Arthur's open stab-wound was making him feel like he would vomit. But Arthur had no one else who would do this for him, so Francis took deep breaths, before beginning the process of sewing Arthur up.

As soon as he started, Arthur let out a continuous torrent of words that Francis had never heard before, but he was pretty sure they were profanities.

" _Jesus bloody fucking son of a holy whore_!" was one string of curses that Arthur let out, and Francis winced slightly.

" _Mon cher_ …I must remind you of my son…" he chastised gently, and Arthur grit his teeth, not wanting Matthew to start running around the tavern calling people 'son of a holy whore'.

Francis was quick and carful in his work, and eventually he had sewn Arthur up so that his wound could start to heal. They were both very much relieved when he cut the thread, and Francis let out a shaky sigh, feeling light-headed. Arthur laid back and closed his eyes once more, overcome with fatigue. He had no hope that he would survive the night, but Francis was adamant he would.

The Frenchman pulled the covers over him gently, kissing his forehead. "Call me if you need anything, _mon amour_ …" he whispered, and Arthur only let out a soft hum of acknowledgment, already slipping into the realms of sleep.

Francis smiled softly, leaving the room so that Arthur could sleep, but he prayed that Arthur would live for many years to come.

* * *

 **A/N: So, the main question is, will Arthur live or die?**

 **Please review and let me know which it will be!**

 **Love you all x**


	12. Moment Of Peace (M)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

 **Warning: This chapter contains the good stuff (smut) XD**

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

A few weeks had passed, with Arthur slowly recovering. He was still bed-ridden, and Francis had thrown a fit when Arthur had tried to get out of bed on his own one time, so to save his lover a heart attack, the Englishman decided to just do as he was told for once.

Francis spent his time juggling looking after Arthur and raising Matthew, the tavern staying closed as the Frenchman simply did not have the time to add a third responsibility to his list right now. He barely slept, hardly leaving Arthur's side for more than two hours before returning to him.

Arthur repaid him by helping to teach Matthew English, and Francis found out that Arthur spoke a lot of French, although his pronunciation was awful. Francis was grateful to him, but when Arthur freed up his time, the Frenchman would insist on doing cooking or cleaning, keeping himself rushed off his feet.

One day, Arthur was teaching Matthew English, smiling as the boy picked it up so quickly, and the two of them had become rather close. Francis had just finished cleaning the whole tavern, and he was more than exhausted, but now he stood in the doorway, watching the two with a smile.

Arthur looked up, seeing Francis and he was concerned as the Frenchman was clearly tired, but he smiled and gently patted the bed. Francis smiled, coming over and sitting down on the edge of the bed quietly as Matthew continued reading from the English book. His French accent was very thick, but he was only eight years old, and Francis knew that the more he practiced, the easier it would become for him.

Arthur had a hand gently on the Frenchman, rubbing small circles into the small of his back, and Francis found himself lying down with his head on Arthur's shoulder, cuddling him as Matthew and Arthur continued their lesson.

After a few minutes, the Englishman glanced at Francis, to see that he had fallen asleep, and he smiled softly, gently closing the book and whispering to Matthew.

"What do you say we continue this tomorrow, my boy? Your Papa could do with some rest…"

Matthew nodded, gathering his books and hopping down off the bed. He knew enough to know that his Papa should not be cuddling up to another man, but he saw how happy Arthur made Francis, and so he said nothing to anyone, just going to his room and continuing to study on his own, determined to master English soon.

Arthur watched him leave, before slowly wrapping his arms around Francis, kissing the top of his head. The Frenchman had not come so close to Arthur in the few weeks he had been there, as if afraid that he would break the Captain. But now, Arthur felt happy to hold his lover in his arms, stroking his silky blonde hair gently as Francis slept deeply against Arthur's chest.

In this moment of peace, Arthur took the time to appreciate Francis. There were a few fine wrinkles on the handsome man's features, no doubt caused by the stress of raising Matthew and running the tavern all on his own, and although Francis looked older than he had done when Arthur first fell in love with him, the English Captain found himself admiring every wrinkle and imperfection of the Frenchman as much as the utter perfection that he was. He gently traced the burn on Francis' arm, concealed under the sleeve of his shirt, but Arthur knew it was there nonetheless. The Frenchman was the most beautiful person still, even when he had been through so much turmoil, and if it were possible, Arthur could have sworn he was only falling more in love with him.

Smiling softly, Arthur placed feather-light kisses along Francis' jaw, careful not to wake him as he appreciated his beauty. The Frenchman stirred in his sleep, nuzzling against Arthur's shoulder a little, and Arthur closed his eyes, soon falling asleep far more easily now that he held his lover in his arms.

XxX

After two months of pampering and constant fussing and attention from Francis, Arthur had recovered rather well. He could not strain himself, and he could not lift anything too heavy or stay on his feet for an excessive amount of time, but when Francis wasn't in the room, he would get out of bed and walk around the room for a bit, feeling his strength returning to him with every passing day.

Now, he stood by the open window, breathing in the fresh air and staring out to sea. He craved the feeling of being back on the water, but he had not said anything to Francis, especially since he knew Francis was really happy having him stay here. But it was not in his nature, and even if he wanted to, he was a wanted man, and he refused to put Francis and Matthew in more danger. So, one he was fully recovered, he would sail the seas, but he would hopefully return to Calais far more frequently than he used to.

A gasp brought him out of his thoughts, as Francis stood in the doorway holding a jug of water to replace the old one on Arthur's bedside table. "What are you doing out of bed?"

Worry flooded him as he quickly put the jug down, rushing over in case Arthur suddenly fell, but the Englishman only smiled. "I'm fine, love." He turned to him, taking his slender hands in his own rough ones, and kissed his knuckles charmingly, before pulling him closer.

"In fact, I'm feeling wonderful~" he purred, using his best seductive voice, and Francis blushed. They had not made love in nine years, and because Arthur was injured, they hadn't been able to in the past two months. But Arthur had been going stir-crazy watching his beautiful Frenchman swan in and out of the room, only to know he could not have him.

"Arthur, you need to regain your strength – " Francis began, but Arthur placed a finger against his soft lips with a smirk.

"I have regained my strength, darling~" he slipped an arm around Francis' waist, aware that the Frenchman was having a very hard time resisting.

"But – "

Arthur cut him off this time with a kiss, moving their lips together heatedly as he pulled him closer still. Francis gasped slightly into the kiss, melting into his embrace though as Arthur flicked his tongue past his lips effortlessly.

Francis wound his arms around Arthur's neck, pulling him closer as they deepened the kiss, and Arthur backed him up against the wall, pinning him there as their tongues battled for dominance. Arthur was somewhat surprised by this, as he thought it was clear by now that he would be the dominant one, and he smirked as Francis finally gave in and let him do as he pleased with a soft moan.

The English Captain smirked as he slipped a hand under Francis' shirt, tracing his fingers over the Frenchman's still well-toned torso. This secretly pleased him, as he would have loved him no matter what, but the fact that Francis was still as damn sexy as he had been nine years ago made Arthur very happy indeed.

Francis sighed into the kiss, surrendering himself entirely to Arthur, and he felt his worries slip away. He forgot all his responsibilities, and for the moment all that mattered was Arthur's roaming hands and searing kisses. The Frenchman began unbuttoning Arthur's shirt, slipping it off his shoulders slowly, as this was different to the heat and passion of the nights they had shared before. This time they could be slow, and gentle, and take the time to appreciate each other.

Arthur let his shirt fall to the floor, before doing the same with Francis' shirt, kissing over his neck and his now exposed chest gently. The Frenchman's eyes fluttered closed as Arthur's touch was so soft and yet still amazing, and he gasped, letting out a soft moan as Arthur lightly sucked on the sweet spot he remembered Francis had.

Arthur smirked slightly at the fact that he was still able to make Francis melt into his arms like wax, and he coaxed him over to the bed, lying him down gently and crawling over him, before claiming his lips lovingly again. The Frenchman followed his lead, kissing him back and caressing the back of his neck gently with his thumb.

Breaking the kiss gently, Arthur moved down, kissing his way down Francis' chest as his hands worked on sliding down his breeches. His arousal was obvious, and Arthur smiled as he slowly sucked on his own fingers, seeing the Frenchman shiver in anticipation of what was to come.

Slipping one finger into his entrance, Arthur could tell that Francis had not been made love to by another man since the last time Arthur did, and it was evident by the tightness of his entrance, and the harsh gasp that Francis emitted at the intrusion.

Arthur kissed his collarbone in apology, gently stretching his Frenchman until he was ready to bear Arthur's girth, but as he pulled out his fingers, he looked up at Francis' flushed face, feeling his heart skip a beat.

"May I?" he asked softly, whispering against his ear, and Francis nodded gently.

" _Oui, mon amour_ …~" he breathed, his accent heavier and Arthur kissed him, unable to resist.

Then he pulled back, slowly pushing himself into Francis. The Frenchman let out a loud moan, tensing around him slightly as he entered, but as Arthur kissed over his chest, he slowly relaxed.

When the Captain was sure that Francis had adjusted properly, he slowly started to move. He built up a slow but deep and steady pace, making love to the Frenchman and appreciating every moan that tumbled past his lips.

"A-Arthur~" Francis breathed, his gaze half-lidded as he arched into Arthur's thrusts, his whole body electrically charged from the pirate's actions.

"Yes, my love?" Arthur panted softly, keeping the steady pace slow and gentle despite wanting to pound ruthlessly into him.

" _Je t'aime_ ~" he whispered, and the Captain felt his heart almost burst with affection, for it was the first time he could recall Francis actually saying it to him.

He smiled, hitting Francis' prostate and making him scream in pleasure as he kissed along his jaw, keeping as close to him as possible, relishing in the heat radiating off him.

Francis widened his eyes, gripping Arthur's shoulders firmly as waves of pleasure built up within him, and he felt ready to explode. "A-Arthur, I – "

"Let it go, darling~" Arthur purred, struggling to keep his voice level as he was close as well, and when Francis released hard over their chests, tensing around Arthur, the Englishman couldn't help letting himself go inside his lover.

The Frenchman fell back against the bed, still shuddering from the effects of his orgasm, and Arthur fell on top of him, kissing every inch of Francis' exposed skin between pants.

Eventually, the Captain pulled out, settling down beside his lover on the bed. His wound hurt from the exertion, but he could live with it. He wasn't about to tell Francis it hurt, because the Frenchman would not let him make love to him again if he knew.

He smiled as Francis cuddled up against his chest, tracing his slender fingers over Arthur's torso gently, and he kissed his forehead before both men fell victim to slumber, curled up in their lover's embrace.

* * *

 **A/N: So he does live! But only because you were all pleading for it XD I even gave you a cute sexy chapter to make up for all the heartache because I'm nice~**

 **Please review and let me know what you preferred though, do you prefer Arthur being rough with Francis or more gentle?**

 **And what did you think of Arthur teaching lil Matthew English?~**

 **Love you all x**


	13. A Happy Compromise

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

The next morning, Arthur awoke peacefully, having had the best night's sleep since he could remember, and he knew it was due to the beautiful Frenchman beside him. Francis was still asleep, snuggled against Arthur's chest, and for once, the Englishman allowed himself to just lie there, holding him and making no attempt to get up.

After a few minutes, Francis began to stir, and Arthur watched, enamoured as he saw Francis' eyes flutter open sleepily. He met his gaze, and the Frenchman smiled lazily, humming softly as he deliberately shifted closer to the Englishman.

" _Bon matin_ …" he mumbled, his accent thick from sleep, but Arthur just found it more alluring.

"Good morning, darling~" he returned, pecking his lips, before seeming to change his mind and kissing him deeply instead.

Francis hummed softly, kissing him back happily as the two men laid there, content in each other's company. They cuddled for a few more minutes, before Arthur hummed softly.

"Francis…"

"Hmm?" the Frenchman hummed sleepily in acknowledgement, playing with Arthur's shirt buttons as he usually did when he was feeling sleepy and cuddly.

The English Captain hesitated, not wanting to ruin the contentment they both felt, but he knew he had to say something about it. "Would you ever forgive me if I went back to pirating?"

Francis hesitated, before giving a small smile. "I could not imagine you doing anything else…"

Arthur blinked at this, having expected Francis to get a little upset, as he always made it clear that he hated it when Arthur left. "…You would be alright with it?"

The Frenchman lifted his head, meeting Arthur's emerald gaze with those beautiful blue eyes that Arthur had always been in love with. "I know you belong on the sea, _mon cher_ …Just as I belong on land." He reached up, gently stroking Arthur's cheek. "As long as you visit us often enough that Matthew does not forget you, I will be happy~"

At this, the English Captain gave a smile, appreciating Francis' understanding of his love for the sea. "I will visit you every year – "

A slight frown creased Francis' features at this, and Arthur remedied his mistake instantly.

"I-I mean every three months – " Francis smiled again, nodding as three months seemed perfect to him.

"And I promise every time I return, I will make up for the months I have been away~" the pirate purred, brushing their lips.

Francis hummed happily. " _Bien_ ~" he leaned up, kissing Arthur deeply and lovingly, before pulling back to murmur. "But if you are ever late, I will be very upset with you…"

His warning only made Arthur smile, and the Captain nodded. "If I am late you can cut up my beautiful hat~"

Francis laughed at this, pecking his lips. "We have an accord, then~"

Arthur chuckled as well, wrapping his arms around Francis and holding him close, having never felt his heart burst with so much love for the Frenchman before.

XxX

On the first day of the month every three months, Francis would close the tavern. He would make sure the room he saved for Arthur was pristine and ready for him, and the Frenchman took extra care to bathe and dress especially nicely, making sure his hair was perfectly silky and beautiful.

Then he would take Matthew down to the dock, where they would watch and wait until they saw _The Bloody Rose_ on the horizon. It would not take long, and Francis' heart would swell with happiness and excitement as his cerulean gaze caught sight of Arthur's ship. Matthew would smile, his violet eyes lighting up as he saw the man whom he now viewed as a second father. Arthur would always be on deck, waiting impatiently until the ship docked properly, before hopping off and opening his arms as Matthew would run to embrace him.

Francis would smile brightly, resisting the urge to run into Arthur's arms as well as he knew he had to wait until they were behind the closed doors of the tavern. Arthur would hug Matthew tightly, kissing his forehead and holding his hand as the three of them would return to the tavern.

The Frenchman would cook a grand dinner for them that he had been planning for a good week at least, and the three of them would eat like Kings for the night. Matthew would update Arthur on the things that had been happening in his life, such as making new friends and learning a new English word that not even Francis knew.

Arthur would always pay his fullest attention to Matthew, showing interest in the things he said and praising him on his achievements, but once Matthew went to bed, Arthur would inevitably turn his attention to Francis, who would have been waiting for the moment when Arthur would escort him upstairs to their room.

They would make love passionately, once, sometimes more than once, and then they would lie together, basking in the afterglow of sex and talking about anything and everything together. Arthur would tell stories of the adventures he had on the sea, and Francis would listen with admiration, running his hands over Arthur's chest and placing kisses over every exposed inch of his lover's skin.

The two men would stay up until the early hours of the morning, before finally sleep would claim them. And when Francis awoke, Arthur would always be there, holding him in his arms. The Frenchman would smile and kiss the pirate, before going downstairs to make breakfast for the three of them. Arthur would go and wake Matthew, and the Englishman would escort the boy down to the kitchen where the breakfast would be ready for them.

And then it would be time for Arthur to leave again, and although Francis felt sad, he knew that his lover would faithfully return in three months' time. Francis would kiss Arthur deeply, pouring all his love into that one moment of affection, to let Arthur know that he would be here in three months' time.

The English Captain would promise that he would return, and he would always give Francis a token; some souvenir he collected on his voyages, which Francis would later display in their room with the other tokens. And then Francis would watch as Arthur boarded his ship once more, forcing a smile despite the heartache he felt. He would not leave the dock until the ship disappeared from his view completely, and then he would return to the tavern, opening it for business and awaiting the next time he would see his beloved Englishman.

It was a compromise, but Francis was just happy that Arthur kept coming back to him, no matter what. And as Matthew grew from a boy into an intelligent young man, he helped Francis run the tavern, taking charge of it when Arthur came to visit so that Francis could make the most of every second the pirate was there.

As the years passed, Arthur never broke his promise, always returning. And faithfully, Francis always waited for him.

* * *

 ** _~Fin~_**

* * *

 **A/N: So I'm super bad at endings, but there we are! So thank you to everyone who regularly supported this story – I really enjoyed writing it~**

 **Please review and let me know what you thought of the ending, and also the story in general XD**

 **Love you all x**


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